Laisha of Candlekeep
by rufushobart
Summary: Chapters 1-4 of the saga of the half-elven wild mage Laisha Lapari, as she finds unexpected dangers in her home of Candlekeep, then travels the Coast Road to try and find the promised safe grounds of the Friendly Arm Inn.
1. Candlekeep

**Laisha Lapari , Wild Mage of Candlekeep**

**Candlekeep**

An imposingly tall building stands towering over a rainy city far, far from the library of Candlekeep. Lightning flashes in the sky. Someone crawls through a door - a man, clad in mismatched armour - out onto a rooftop...it crashes open behind him. He's being stalked. A huge, armoured demonic figure, immensely strong strides through, implacable, unstoppable. "**I will be the last,"**it growls as it crushes the poor soul's windpipe. **"And you will go first!"**

And the young half-elf maiden Laisha Lapari wakes with a scream, a thousand leagues to the south, as the man's body is hurled from the rooftops to land broken on the cobblestones below, his lifeblood draining away to the city sewers.

From the end of her bed a white shape uncurled itself, yellow eyes glowing malevolently at the shaking girl as it padded up the bed to her head.

"What is it now, woman? Your screams are quite enough to wake the dead! My napping is suffering from your constant twitching and moaning in the night."

Pantalaimon, her feline familiar, twitched his tail irritably, then, his action belying his harsh words, started to lick the girl's face.

"I'm sorry, Pan," Laisha apologised, her fear and tension melting away at the soothing touch of the cat's tongue. "It's ridiculous. I'm 20 years old, and still having nightmares."

Pan blinked his yellow eyes, then moved the attentions of his tongue from his wizard's face to his impeccably clean paws.

"Is it your magics again?" he quizzed her. "How many times can you blame yourself for squirrelizing that dreadful boy? He fully deserved it, as you well know. Plus, he was very much fun to pursue around the grounds." Pan's eyes gleamed wickedly, and Laisha couldn't quite stifle a giggle from the memory of her wild magicks going astray once more, this time on a bratty apprentice to a visiting wizard.

"No, it wasn't that, it was those...other dreams. The feeling that's there's something dark, something monstrous coming..."

Pan rolled his eyes. "You bipeds. Always finding catastrophe in every flap of a butterfly's wings." His cleaning ritual seemingly completed, he curled back up near Laisha and closed his eyes, a cocked ear her only clue that he was still paying attention.

"Imoen thinks it could be related to my wild magic," Laisha offered tentatively, as her cat sniffed.

"She's a human. She thinks the sun coming up each morning is due to magic."

"Oh, must you be so grumpy, fuzzball?" Laisha laughed, scruffing up the cat and rolling him onto his back to scratch at his belly.

Pan flexed his claws and bared his teeth mock ferociously, but his purring belied his displeasure.

"And what of Gorion?" he asked, stretching out to his full length, "have you talked to your father lately about your nightmares?"

Laisha scowled .

"Gorion has had precious little to say about anything to me lately. Dark glances and hurried brush-offs are all I seem to get from him these these days. Perhaps I'm finally growing up too fast for him, despite all his best efforts."

Pan's nose twitched.

"He certainly wasn't overjoyed at your fraternising with that group of Sharessan clerics who came the other month to pore over the Scrolls of Xee, was he?"

The cat's lips stretched into a toothy grin.

"And whose fault was that, Pan? You're the one who insisted we go and talk to them, remember?"

"I thought you should feel the embrace of the Feline Huntress, since you were given the chance," the cat yawned. "She seemed to suit your...nature, as close to cat-like as an imperfect being such as youself can get. Why else would I have come to your childish call."

Laisha smiled. That was high praise indeed coming from her haughty cat familiar. Her memories of the nightmares subsiding, she thought she should get moving soon. Gorion would undoubtedly send an invisible messenger in to toss her out of bed if she didn't...Or Winthrop would start bellowing for her to help clean his inn...Or even worse, they'd set Imoen onto her with a dozen of her little pranks!

After coaxing Pantalaimon out of bed with the promise of breakfast, Laisha wandered down and out into the grounds of the Candlekeep library where she had been raised for the last 20 years. The Citadel of Candlekeep housed the finest and most comprehensive collection of writings on the face of Faerun, and the imposing fortress was kept in strict isolation from the intrigues that plagued the rest of the Forgotten Realms. Nestled atop the cliffs that rose from the Sword Coast, the former home of Alaundo the Seer was secluded and highly regimented, and to Laisha, it was the only home she'd ever known. The sage Gorion had taken her under his wing, despite her being an orphan, entertaining and tutoring her in equal measure with a thousand tales of lore involving heroes and mosters, lovers and infidels, battles and tragedies. Her own past, however, was left largely untold. All she knew of her mother was that she had been a half-elvish maiden from the great city of Silverymoon, and a friend of Gorion's. Of her father, she knew nothing at all.

Inspired by Gorion's vast knowledge of the magical arts, Laisha had made especially productive use of the library. She had pored over the treasures of magical lore housed within its walls. Gorion had instructed her in the basics, and was impressed by her raw ability, but was concerned by some of the side effects that manifested itself from time to time. Despite her happiness with her simple life in Candlekeep, some part of the young half-elf longed to test her powers beyond the guarded walls of the library, and Gorion himself had told her he would soon take her on a journey, something her adventurous spirit looked very much forward to. Laisha yawned as Pan looked up inquisitively.

"So what monotonous drudgery do the monks have you doing today?" the cat asked idly, his slitted eyes watching a fluttering insect nearby.

"This morn I am to meet Jondalar for staff training. You know he wants me to keep up my quarterstaff techniques once a tenday. He insists that magic skill by itself is not enough to defend myself. Even after that time where I accidently turned his staff into a serpent." she grinned ruefully.

Pan sniffed and shook his head, simply muttering "humans" as if it was a curse.

"Yoo-hoo!"

The young mageling's musings with her familiar were interrupted by a call across the yard. Laisha peered over and smiled. Phlydia was back in Candlekeep. She was another mage who was a regular visitor, but one with a terribly bad memory. Ulraunt, the keeper of the tomes had more than once threatened not to readmit her due to her unfortunate habit of leaving books and scrolls lying in various places around the grounds where she liked to curl up secluded to study.

"Good to see you again, Phlydia. How goes the studies?" Laisha beamed.

"Oh hello young Laisha! I'm trying to muddle my way through the magical history tomes currently," the elder woman sighed. "You haven't by any chance seen my copy of "_**History of Halruua"**_ anywhere? You know how I can't stand the constant shuffling of arthritic feet up in the library...So I thought I'd get a little fresh air and...Oh I hate being so absent-minded! Please, if you find it, I really do need it back before Ulraunt finds out and starts yelling at me again!

"Of course, Phlydia. I have to go and let Jondalar beat me around the head and shoulders with a large stick on the training grounds first, but I will keep my eyes open." Laisha promised.

On her way to the training area she passed the stables where the farmhand Dreppin was whistling cheerfully.

"Nice day, ain't it, Miss." he called, nodding his head to the half-elf. "If you get a moment, Miss Phlydia left one of her books over there in the hay. If you could run it over to her, I'm sure she'd be much obliged...before the Keeper makes his daily rounds" he winked.

Laisha laughed and rescued the book from the pile of hay, brushing off stray bits of straw from the cover.

"How's Nessa doing today?" she asked, looking over at Dreppin's favourite bovine.

The farmhand sighed.

"Not the best, Laisha, she's not enjoyin' the day, her bein' sick an' all. She's the worst I've seen her since she...dropped in on us."

Laisha grinned. Nessa had been a very unexpected side effect of a wild surge when she had been attempting to cast a sleep spell so she and Imoen could sneak past the guards after curfew. Instead of setting the Watchers snoring, a surprised cow had come falling from the sky, luckily landing on a large pile of hay, much to the shock of everyone, and the cow herself. Dreppin had quickly taken to the bovine, naming her Nessa, and Laisha still had a soft spot for the beast, feeling a sense of pride and creation in her appearance.

"I think Hull has a stash of potions to cure his hangovers. I'm sure he won't mind if I borrow one" the half-elf grinned.

Dreppin snorted.

"That Hull stayed up drinkin' last night and got hauled outta bed to man th' gates early this morning. I don' think he'll be in the mood t' give ya anythin'!"

Oh, don't you worry about Hull. Just leave him to me." Laisha winked confidently. I'll have a word to him after Jondalar's through with me."

She trotted off then, Pan at her heels, and saw Jondalar waiting at the training grounds.

"Hey there, Laisha! I hope you brought your staff!"

Laisha rolled her eyes, brandishing the 6' length of stout oak. "What does this look like, a wand?"

"With your wonky magics, I wouldn't be at all surprised. Now come at me!"the weapons master laughed, seeing the scowl darken the girl's face, and the two began to spar.

Jondalar grinned as he thrusted and parried, pleased with the imporvements the spirited girl had made over their sessions. She could barely lift the staff at first, now he saw she wielded it with some skill and technique, and her speed and agility made her a constantly moving target.

"I'm going to test you now, girl. Are you ready?"

"I'm always ready for you, Jon." the girl puffed.

Jondalar grinned, and made a quick gesture with his hand. From behind the sparring pair, a bowman stepped out from the bushes, aimed, and fired a blunted arrow straight at the young mage's back.

Jon watched in astonishment as, without even turning, Laisha muttered a few words and waved a hand negligently, sending the buzzing arrow harmlessly off into the wall of the storehouse. Without pausing, she sent her quarterstaff low, smacking Jondalar's leg, then crowed triumphantly.

"Told you I was ready, didn't I?"

"You did good, kid," Jondalar agreed, rubbing his reddened shin, "especially after Erik started firing those arrows at ya. I'm sure your father would be proud."

"So can I go now?" Laisha asked with a smile. Has the weakling mage proved herself enough to the mighty warrior?"

She laughed and danced nimbly out of reach of the cuff that was aimed for her head.

"I have things to do!" she called back as she scarpered off. "Things to do with books, and study. Meatheads like you wouldn't understand!"

She saw Phlydia wandering aimlessly near the keep gates and called out to her, waving the missing tome in her hand.

"My book! Oh, you remind me of Gorion when you grin like that!Raising you has been hard on him, I know, but he says it's a toil of love, of destiny, even. You must be a very special child indeed to draw such praise from a man of his silent nature...Here, take this little gem of mine. Maybe Winthrop will give you a little something for it."

Laisha accepted the Lynx Eye gem with a smile and a nod of thanks, then took her leave, spying Hull manning the gates, looking all manner of disgruntled. She sidled up to him with a sly smile.

"Hiya Hull. How's it hanging?"

The burly man flushed, and Laisha laughed.

"Hey kid." the gate guard sighed. I woke late this morning and left my sword in the barracks before going on duty. If you want to get it for me, it's in the chest at the foot of my bed."

Laisha smiled winsomely.

"Of course, Hull. I'm always eager to get my hands on your sword, you know that."

The guard flushed deeper, and she beamed. Her tenday spent with the Sharessans had proven most interesting, and Laisha had discovered the side of her that urged her to seek out pleasure in all its forms. The taciturn guard had been the unsuspecting recipient of her desires, and since then the half-elf loved nothing more than to tease him, seeing a hitherto unsuspected soft side hidden beneath his gruff and plain exterior.

"Well allright, be off. Quick now, before the Gatewarden catches me without it!"

"I'll be right back," Laisha grinned "Don't miss me too much!"

She threw open the door of the barracks with a respounding bang, and called out cheerfully,

"Goooooooood Morning, gentlemen!"

The only response she got was a long, drawn out moan from the darkened room. Her low level infravision kicked in, and she spied a guard she knew well, Fuller, curled up in his bed, cradling his head.

"Ugh, what a mead filled night," Fuller moaned as he sat up, squinting at Laisha,"that Hull is just too much. Poor sap had to go man the gate this morning too. I don't know how he does it. What can I do for you, anyways?"

"Hull left his sword in here, when you rushed him off to man the gate. I thought I'd be nice and fetch it for him."

"Well aren't you just a little saint, then?" Fuller groaned. "His bed's off on the right ha..."

"Oh I know very well where Hull's bed is," Laisha grinned, drawing a muffled snort from the guard.

She drew out the heavy sword from the chest at the end of his bed, and snaffled a potion for Nessa as well. On her way out, Fuller spoke out from under his blanket.

"Since you're being so damn helpful, little girl, howsabout nicking up to Winthrop at the Inn and buying a quarrel of crossbow bolts for me. I'll reimburse you...Oh very well, there'll be a few coins in it for you, too, so you can stop giving me that look."

Smirking to herself, Laisha banged the door shut behind her, grinning at Fuller's anguished cry from inside. She headed back to the cattle pens and tossed Dreppin the antidote she'd found in Hull's chest.

"Heh. Yer a wonder, you are. Stick with me and we'll go far," Dreppin beamed happily as he poured the thick, viscous liquid down Nessa's throat. "Well, okay, stick with me and we'd prob'ly never leave the walls of Candlekeep, would we."

He looked at the young half-elf critically, garbed as she was in her robes.

"Hmm, good thing you ain't wearin' none of that metal armour though, as I hear that the bandits out there would just as soon kill ya as look at ya to get it off your back. I just hope this whole iron crisis business is wrapped up soon."

Laisha yawned. Every visitor these days seemed to have something to say about this so called "crisis" that had struck the Sword Coast, but her life was magic and books, not metal and mining, so she had paid very little attention to anything that was said, finding it all rather dreary. As Dreppin threatened to keep ruminating on his half formed ideas about the iron, she made her excuses and headed back to Hull. On the way, she was accosted by the small, tough dwarven storemaster Reevor who stopped her in her tracks with one muscled hand.

"Oy, Missy! I thought I asked you to clean the rats out of my storeroom yesterday, already. Hop to it! Get in there!" He gave her a whack with the flat of his axe and she yelped, muttering curses under her breath.

"Pan! I thought you were going to take care of those rats for me! What happened?" she quizzed her familiar who met her stare with a blank look.

"Oh yes. That. I ventured in, but one of the other cats was in a...friendly mood. I put my own priorities first." the cat sniffed with an air of self satisfaction.

Laisha tried to hide her smile.

"Pan!"

"What?" her cat retorted. "I seem to remember you taking a similar line with your entertainments when the mood strikes you."

Laisha flushed guiltily, and urged her cat into the store.

"Come on, make yourself useful and get some breakfast!"

She smiled as she watched her predatory cat go to work, terrorizing the mice running rampart through the stores, until the last futile squeak had being uttered.

Up in the loft, she heard a rustling, and Pan turned, back arched, fur raised and hissed.

"That's one big rat left up there!" Laisha called out, and heard a girlish laugh in replay.

"Heya! It's just me, Imoen! Don't set me on fire or set that darn magic cat onto me!" the young girl called out, and swung down to land soundlessly in front of the mage.

"What are you doing hiding away up there, Im?" Laisha laughed as she hugged the girl she'd grown up with.

"Counting my pretties!" the young thief grinned, opening her palm to show a silver necklace and ring.

"That Calishite wizard's stupid apprentice left them in a drawer that barely even needed its lock picked so I figured he didn't want them anymore. Howsabout you go flog them to Puffguts and we split the profit? He doesn't trust me anymore when I tell them they're my pretties!" she giggled.

"I'm surprised that stuffy old Gorion let you away from your studies and chores. Old Puffguts Winthrop was looking for me , but I've got all day to do his chores. You have time for a story today? No, I can tell you don't. What have ya been up to?

Laisha laughed and shook her head at her incorrigible friend and her rapid fire questions. Imoen had arrived at Candlekeep shortly after she had, by all accounts, another orphan that the monks had taken in, and being the only two young girls having permanent residence, had quickly become fast friends.

"Alright, I'll be your fence. I have to get Fuller a quarrel of bolts anyway. "

Imoen pulled a face.

"Don't know why you talk to those watchers, they're such bores! They never let me have any fun!"

"Oh Fuller's alright once you get to know him. And Hull lets me have plenty of fun, little one!" she winked, and the two girls broke into giggles.

"Little one? I'm not much younger than you, though you sure got tall fast, relatively speaking anyway. So I hear Gorion's taking you on a journey soon, eh? I never get to travel. Wish I could go with ya. Yep, I really wish I could. Yessir. Really do."

"Allright, allright, I get the message. I'll ask if you can go with us." Laisha smiled.

"Oh don't be silly, Gorion would never even let you finish the sentence. Especially after what that letter of his said...er...did I say that? No, of course I didn't. Never saw no letter. Nope. I'll just get back to work now."

"Imoen! You get back here! What letter? What letter!"

Laisha made a grab for her friend, but the nimble thief slid out of her grasp and out of the door. Grumbling, Laisha followed, but the tricksy girl was nowhere in sight. Instead, Reevor stood at the door, peering in at Pan's handiwork.

"Ah yes, kill them like the rats they are! A glorious battle unlike any the world has ever seen...Here's 5 gold pieces, don't spend it all in one place."

Laisha snatched the coins the dwarf tossed at her and poked her tongue out as he waddled away. She smiled as Hull stood watching her, and shaking his head.

"Will you ever grow up girl?" he sighed. Laisha arched a brow and handed back his sword.

"I was plenty grown up enough for you the other night, Hull" she reminded the guard. "and last week...and the week before that..."

Hull flushed.

"Sorry kiddo...and thanks. Gorion didn't bring you up half bad, did he? You're lucky to have grown up here in Candlekeep to be honest. Sometimes I think that the world outside these gates has gone mad, what with all this fighting over iron shortages and all. Amn and Baldur's Gate will be at war before the season's out, mark my words. ..Anyhow, I'm on duty. Here's 20 gold for saving my skin from the Chief..." He paused, sliding his sword into the scabbard, then smiled shyly.

"I...I get off duty at highsun...if...if you're not busy, that is..."

Laisha grinned. "I have some spell scrolls to scribe in, but I should be done by highsun or around then...I know the bunkhouse is empty at that time, I'll meet you there," she winked, stood up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, "behave yourself 'til then!"

Whistling, she headed up to the Candlekeep Inn and Store. As she entered, the door swung back the other way and one of the priests of Oghma bumped into her absently.

"Oh! You should look where you're going, elf maiden. Or are you sick? You look healthy to me, but you never can tell. Do you need any potions or such things?"

Laisha shrugged, never one to turn down an offer.

"Well, yes, that would be nice of you."

"All right then, take this potion.". The distracted Oghman thrust a potion of healing into her hands, then paused, giving the girl a curious look.

"You know, I was in one of the great spires of the keep last night, and saw the strangest sight. The horizon was aglow for a time, as though many a man carried torches in the distance. Usually there are only merchants on that path, though never at night. Bandits perhaps, but so many?"

Laisha could do naught but shrug her shoulders at the puzzled priest as he pondered over the mystery, then hurried off back to the temple in the grounds.

The large man behind the bar in the Inn greeted her.

"Well hello there young one. Come to visit your old pal Winthrop, have ye? Well, don't forget the 5000 gold piece book entrance fee, as per Candlekeep custom, doncha know."

Laisha rolled her eyes at the jocular fat man.

"You always were the big kidder, Winthrop. That gets funnier very nearly every time I hear it. Well perhaps not quite so often."

"Haw! Just havin' a bit of fun with ye, my friend." Winthrop guffawed. "Those monks may be walking about with poles in their nethers, but you know you are always welcome here in my sight. Gorion did well by you, he did. So, is there anything I can do for ya? Some drinks? A room? Anything to buy?

"Yes, actually...i need a quarrel of crossbow bolts please," Laisha asked.

"Oh by the Gods, you're not taking up the crossbow are you?" Winthrop shuddered.

"No," Laisha frowned, insulted "...they're for Fuller. But I WILL take a sling and some stones...and you better watch your windows, since you've taken that attitude!"

Ha! I'll be watchin' you CLEAN my windows, young missy, you and that little thieving friend of yours!" Winthrop huffed.

Laisha handed over the necklace and ring she'd got from Imoen and the gem from Phlydia with a grin in payment as she pocketed the sling and bullets. Sitting at one of the Inn's tables, happily breakfasting was an old mage she recognized from his many visits. He saw her staring and motioned the young mageling to approach.

"Mr Elvenhair, it's our pleasure to see you again." she greeted him, a rare note of respect in her voice.

"Ah yes, I'm back within the hallowed walls of Candlekeep. With this iron crisis upon us, the trip from Beregost was more hazardous than I care to relate."

He peered at her closer while he drank down a tankard of ale. "You're Gorion's ward, aren't you? My, you have come into your own, if you would permit an old man jealous of youth to say so. And call me Firebeard, child. We are all brothers and sisters, those who delve deep into the Weave to cast our magics, are we not? I can sense the traces of magic deep within your soul, even if it is a little...wild" he smiled impishly as Laisha squirmed under his penetrating gaze.

"Hmmm, I left a spell scroll with Tethtoril, in the inner grounds. He should be done examining it by now, so if you could fetch it for me, I'd be grateful. "

Laisha nodded her assent, a little tonguetied in the presence of the powerful mage, and not trusting herself to speak for fear of seeming foolish in front of him. At her feet, Pan gazed up at her with implacable eyes. Once they had exited the inn, he spoke up.

"He's not that special, you know. Just another biped. You could far outstrip him in power if you wanted to. With my help, of course."

"PAN! Be quiet! He'll turn you into a toadstool or something...or even worse, a dog!"

The fussy cat shuddered at that thought, contented himself with a short hiss at the half elf and padded along behind her in silence as the voices of the Chanters recited the seer Alaundo's prophecies in full and constant voice.

_**"The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos will be sewn from their passage. So sayeth the wise Alaundo."**_ They droned on, one of the many chants Laisha had heard day in, day out for as far back as she could remember.

She searched the inner grounds, until she spied the familiar form of the revered First Reader of Candlekeep, his head cocked as he listened to the Chanters.

Despite her quiet approach, Tethtoril turned around, smiling serenely and yet somehow sadly at his young student.

"Ah, Miss Laisha Lapari herself. Firebeard has sent you to me, hasn't he? Very well, return this scroll to him, child."

He gave her a rolled up sheet of parchment and took his leave.

Pan sniffed it inquisitively.

"Hmmm smells interesting. Definitely magical. You should take a look."

Laisha smiled, half-shocked but intrigued.

"Pan! I shouldn't! I should take it straight back to Firebeard."

The cat yawned.

"You **should**, yes. But, more interestingly, you **could** take it up to your study and peruse it. You have other scrolls to scribe, it won't hurt to take a look at this one. You might even learn something for a change."

With that, her familiar jumped up the little stone just that served as his makeshift ladder and disappeared up the side of the Library, vanishing into the open window that led into his and Laisha's sleeping quarters. The half elf headed up the steps and into the library, dodging the various monks, scribes and scholars clustered around muttering into their dusty tombs. Settled at her desk, she watched Pantalaimon stretch himself out on the windowsill to bask in the sun as she pulled several scrolls sealed with wax out of a satchel. Pulling out her spellbook she cast her Read Magic spell and set about transcribing the simple spells Gorion had assigned to her as part of her daily studies.

The time was approaching highsun by the time she wiped her brow and sighed in satisfaction, gazing at her spellbook, which now held a total of 5 spells. An infravision spell was the latest she had learned...not particularly useful in her case, seeing as her tinge of elven blood gifted her that innate ability anyway, but she had learned a lot in the process of transcribing the spell that would serve her well in the future, lessening the time taken for scribing other spells. The second spell had been very useful to her, a long lasting armor spell that would invisibly protect her as if she was wearing scale mail.

She paused, her gaze drawn to the third scroll, the one Tethtoril had bid her return to Elvenhair.

"Just a quick look," she told herself as she guiltily broke the wax seal and unfurled it, her excitement mounting as she recognized the glyphs denoting an Identify spell, a common enough spell, and one that was particularly useful here in the Library, but was entusted only to higher level mages, to prevent eager students from toying with potentially powerful items that were beyond their capabilities to control.

Pan blinked at her and yawned as Laisha concentrated hard, then, without really conscious of her actions, quickly transcribed it along with the others to her spellbook. Only after she had completed the process did she note with dismay that the parchment was now empty, the process of scribing transferring the magical text to her spellbook, leaving the scroll as if it were untouched. Biting her lip, the mageling tried to recopy the words back to the vellum but the magic held fast, preventing any new words from appearing. With a guilty shrug, she stashed the blank paper in a drawer.

"I guess I'll just have to avoid old Elvenhair until he forgets or leaves!" she told Pan. "It's not like he can't lay his hands on half a dozen of those if he chose to!"

She slammed her spellbook shut, and shook her head.

"I need some air, it's so stuffy in here. I really should take those crossbow bolts back to Fuller. Come on, kitty."

Pan's ears flattened and he gave her an unfriendly stare, deliberately taking his time in following Laisha back out into the grounds.

Fuller was at last up and out of bed, which was an improvement on the last time she had seen him. He was, however, slumped over his desk, snoring loudly. Laisha grinned, and tossed the bolts down onto the desk right beside his head with a loud clatter that sent the hapless Watcher up out of his chair, looking around wildeyed and spluttering,

"Who? Wha? Huh?...oh...it's you." Fuller cleared his throat and calmed himself with a sheepish smile at the amused look on the half-elf's face.

"Thanks. kid. I hear tell you might be leaving this place soon. Watch your back out there, okay?" He fumbled at a scabbard on his belt and withdrew a sharp looking dagger that seemed to glow with a tint of magic.

"Here, let me give you this dagger. My father killed a hobgoblin with it once, many years ago. Stabbed him right in the back, he did. It ain't no broadsword, but it'll do in a pinch."

He blushed crimson as the delighted Laisha leaned over and kissed his cheek, then impulisvely embraced him.

"Thank you, Fuller. That's very thoughtful of you, I'm touched! I don't know when Gorion will whisk me away, but i'll definitely take this with me when I go!"

Looking up at the sun, realizing it was around highsun, Laisha decided it was time for some relaxation, and headed for the bunkhouse, smiling at the hope that Hull may be off duty and would be waiting there to entertain her. As she neared the door, Pan sniffed and hissed suddenly.

"Something smells not right in there, Laisha. Don't open that door!"

"Don't be silly, Pan" she replied as she walked in. A figure turned, and her welcoming smile for Hull faded as a stranger stared at her.

"Ere there. You're Gorion's little whelp, aren't ya? Yeah, you match the description. You don't look so dangerous to me."

Startled, then indignent, Laisha drew herself up to her still underwhelming full height and huffed.

"And what business is that of yours? I could be extremely dangerous for all you know!"

"Ha!" the wretch laughed mirthlessly, "I'll make it my business if'n I please. Just thought I'd have me a look at you for m'self, before I puts a blade down yer gullet! Someone seems to think yer trouble, so I'm gonna use your head for a ticket out o' the gutter. I'm just a little street trash hood they say, but I'll show 'em!"

Stunned, Laisha watched dumbly as the man lunged at her with a crude knife, slashing her on the forehead. She cried out, more in shock than pain, an anger burning fiercely in her eyes. The long months of staff training with Jondalar kicked in, and in an instant, the long staff was in her hands, twirling as she stepped forward menacingly as the dirty man grinned and thrust again. The metal bar on the end caught the would-be assassin squarely on the temple and the surprise only just had time to register in his eyes before he crumpled straight to the floor in a twitching heap.

The move she and Jondalar had practiced many times had been executed perfectly, but this time the staff was not havily padded with swaddling cloth, this time her opponent had not being wearing a thick pot helmet, this time he did not get straight back up with a cheerful grin and words of praise.

Laisha knelt down, frantically feeling for a pulse to no avail, as Pan stalked around the corpse, hissing wildly and clawing at his mistresses' assailant's slack-jawed face.

The door opened behind her and she whirled about, seeing the concerned face of one of her tutors, Karan, peering in.

"I heard shouting, LaishaI Are you alright?"

The elderly man's eyes widened as he spotted the dead man on the floor.

"He...he's dead, whoever he was," Laisha sputtered, an unreasoning panic bubbling in her chest. "I didn't mean to! He lunged at me, with a knife. Oh Karan, what is happening to this place?"

The wizened sage sighed, regret piercing his pale blue eyes.

"It's not this place, child. It's you they're after. Oh Laisha, I have been your tutor for so many years, and only in this moment have I come to doubt that my teachings have been enough. Go now, child, go to Gorion. It is safe for you here no longer."

"B..but Gorion. He will be so mad...oh but where would he be?"

"I last saw him conversing with the priests in their quarters, child. He may still be there. I pray you, go to him. He will keep you safe."

Laisha fled, Pan bristling in her arms, hurtling past astonished Watchers and monks as she headed to the Priests Quarters. Outside the door, Pan leapt down, sniffed and hissed violently, the fur on his back arched higher than Laisha had ever seen it.

"Another unfamiliar smell in here, Laisha. Best you heed my words this time, and enter prepared. Strike him down! Kill the wretch!"

Pushing open the door, staff quivering in her shaking hands, Laisha confronted another stranger bathed in the unwashed odor of city streets.

"Oh goodie goodie!" the man cackled as she spotted the young half-elf. "I've gone and found ye first! You are the ward of Gorion no doubt?"

Pan darted down and around the man's legs, howling and hissing as Laisha measured her latest possible opponent.

"I do not recognise you," she replied cooly. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"Who I am is unimportant, but who YOU are is very much so," the man leered. "I apologize for this dirty bit of business, but I must seek your death. A pity, I know, but it would seem your head is worth an exceptional amount to me. I kill you myself and I need not share credit with anyone."

Assured now that this man too meant to kill her, Laisha clutched her staff tight, and started muttering an incantation under her breath. Pan lashed out with his razor sharp claws, shredding the man's ankle and nimbly skipped away as the man yelped and aimed a vicious kick at the cat.

"I'll crush your face, I will. Make you dead and done!"

He yelled out as Laisha's spell took effect, covering him in a swirl of constantly changing colours. He paused, then seeing the frown on the girl's face, smiled triumphantly as he felt no other ill effects.

"Parlor tricks by a silly little girl. Silly little dead girl!"

But he had underestimated the mage. The wild surge had given her all the time she needed, and she took full advantage of his momentary hesitation to lash out with her staff, winding him as she struck him square in the ribs, then jabbing again hard, aiming for his heart. The man stared wide eyed at her as he clutched at his chest, the jolt causing his heart to stop, just as was designed, and he, too, fell to the floor with a loud clunk.

Pan hissed wildly as he rejoined Laisha.

"Vile human trash at every turn, all baying for your blood. We shall slay them all!" he meowed viciously.

Trying to stead herself, Laisha backed out of the preists quarters, and straight into another of her tutors as the door swung closed.

Parda steadied her gently, then looked deeply into her eyes.

"You cut yourself above the brow there, girl." he said as she wiped the sweat and blood from her eyes, fingering the cut the first man had given her.

"What is wrong, child?" he asked. " Something in your eyes tells me something is very wrong indeed."

"It's...it's nothing, Parda. Pan had a fight with one of the other cats, and I had to seperate them. I'm all right, really."

Parda gave the mage's familiar a searching look, seeing his wild behaviour and aggressive manner.

"Hmmm well all right. I think Gorion was looking for you, over at the library. You best not keep him waiting."

Laisha nodded her mute assent and bolted for the library, seeing her foster father standing on the library steps.

"Gorion! " she called urgently, "I..."

"This is very unnerving, I know" he interrupted, quietly but insistently. "But you must trust me. There is no time to tarry. The keep is well protected, but not invulnerable. Go to your room now, collect your spellbook and belongings. Tonight we must travel. Stay in your room until I collect you. This is no time for you to be out in the open."

It was evening by the time Laisha and Pan re-emerged from her room, both sets of eyes darting around nervously as they accompanied Gorion down to the front gate.

"Listen carefully," her foster father urged her, "If we ever become seperated it is imperative that you make your way to the Friendly Arm Inn. There you will meet Khalid and Jaheira. They have long being my friends and you can trust them."

Her mind in a whirl, Gorion's words barely registered. The thought of finally venturing beyond the walls of Candlekeep, for so long a dream of unbridled adventure was suddenly now a frightening necessity, fleeing her childhood home a criminal, two deaths to her name.

Gorion dragged her through the woods east of Candlekeep, as the wind picked up strength and the rain began to fall, avoiding the well trodden path in an attempt to avoid detection.

"Hurry child. The night can only get worse and we must find shelter soon..."

Seeing the worried look on her face, Gorion laid an arm over her shoulders.

"Don't worry, Laisha. I will explain everything as soon as there is time."

They entered a clearing in the woods. Gorion paused, his eyes narrowed, placing a warning hand to stop the young half-elf from moving forward.

"Wait! There is something wrong. We are in an ambush. Prepare yourself."

A small group stepped into the clearing then, from the other side. Two huge brutish ogres and a pair of archers smirked malevolently as their leader, an imposing armored figure, strode towards Gorion and his ward. In the background, a svelte figure in chain mail began to chant and pray – a cleric! Laisha realised, alarmed.

"You're perceptive for an old man." the figure in armor rumbled. "You know why I'm here. Hand over your ward and no one will be hurt. If you resist, it shall be a waste of your life."

Laisha reeled in disbelief. The figure was the same one from her dreams. Her nightmares. A man clad all in iron. A man with demonic eyes. Countless throats she had seen him crush, all over Faerun, his mocking laughter had echoed in her ears too many mornings to remember.

"You're a fool if you believe I would trust your benevolence." the elder mage responded calmly. "Step aside, and you and your lackeys will be unhurt."

The figure chortled.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way, old man." His eyes glowered from beneath his helmet.

"Run child, get out of here!" Gorion barked as the female archer loosed a spiteful arrow that grazed her arm.

The fear struck her then, and she ran, ran like a fool, like a frightened fox chased by baying hounds. The sounds of an epic battle of magic and sword echoed throughout the woods behind her as she ran through the night, smacking into tree after tree, finally hiding in a hole 'til the darkness was finally vanquished by the light.


	2. The Lion's Way

**2. The Lion's Way **

The dawn was especially cruel this morning. Laisha awoke with the realization that she had not been living some horrible dream. Ambushed, she saw Gorion cut down before her eyes. Even his powerful magics could not stop the onslaught. It had been his wish that she flee, but that did not remove the feeling of helplessness that now overwhelmed her.

"_**Hand over your ward,"**_ the armored fiend had said.

He was after her, and her alone, but why? If only Gorion had given some clue. But now, she was alone, and lost. Candlekeep was near, but she would find no quarter there. The Readers paid for their serenity with rather draconian entry rules. Without Gorion's influence, the doors would remain closed. She would not last long on her own with her meagre equipment. Perhaps she could get some help from the friends Gorion had mentioned, the ones at the Friendly Arm Inn.

Exhausted and sore, she slowly, fearfully uncurled herself from out of the hole she had cowered in for the remainder of the night. She winced as she stretched, her slender limbs cracking and protesting as they settled back into place. Hearing footsteps approaching her, she huddled into a crouch, a fearful animal ready to flee, and screamed out when a figure rushed suddenly at her, trapping her in a tight embrace as she fought uselessly to get free.

"Stop it! Stop It! Laisha, it's me! It's Imoen!I won't hurt you, I promise! I won't let anyone ever hurt you again!"

Laisha lifted her tear-streaked face, bleary eyes meeting the concerned face of her only friend.

"Imoen, I..."

The young thief cut her off, continuing to hold her tightly.

"I know, Laisha, I know. I saw...I saw Gorion, and I am SO sorry. I'm sorry about everything. I'm sorry I followed ya, but I never get out of Candlekeep, and you know how those monks are such a bore, with never a thing in their pockets, let alone some decent coin."

Laisha somehow managed a smile at how, even now, in the darkest of times, Imoen's thoughts could bounce around all over the place, dominated by her love of mischief, coin and her "pretties".

"I thought it would be FUN!" the girl wailed, squeezing Laisha so tight she started coughing for breath.

"I mean, I kinda figured something bad might happen to you out her, but I thought Mr. G could handle it, I thought he could handle anything!"

Finally wriggling free of Imoen's grip, Laisha peered at the young thief.

"How could you have known? Gorion did not even tell me."

Imoen flushed, and glanced away shiftily.

"I...accidentally... read a letter on his desk the other day. Can't remember exactly what it said, but he might have...it might be on his...his body. . Anyway i'm not gonna let you wander around out here all alone. Never let a friend down, no sir! Stick with you until you say otherwise, I will!"

Laisha snuffled away the last of her tears and gave Imoen a wan smile.

"Well, we should get moving, I suppose. No sense hanging around the woods, Not much adventure in that, right? And besides, Pan will get fat from all the birds and squirrels!"

Imoen giggled as she heard a muffled hiss from where the content cat was curled up in Laisha's pack, digesting his morning meal.

"Where should we head?" she asked her half-elven friend. "Should we go back to Candlekeep? It's all we know, after all.

Laisha shook her head somewhat sadly.

"We can't, Immy. Didn't you ever listen to Gorion or Tethtoril? They'll only let someone in who can contribute to their library with a valuable book they haven't already got. And no, your journal about your filthy exploits doesn't count!" she smirked as Imoen laughed and hurled a dirt clod at her.

"I suppose we should try and find the place where we were attacked, and Gorion...fell." Laisha suggested, more soberly. "I want to have a look at that letter you mentioned. And we should...put him to rest. If not for him I would have been killed. I owe him a proper burial."

Imoen nodded her assent, and the two girls gathered themselves together and set off eastwards along the path, Pan trotting at their heels. It was not long before a lone figure approached them on the path, heading west.

The two girls stiffened, Laisha's hands gripping her quarterstaff tighter, Imoen casually reaching for an arrow to notch into her bow as the portly man ambled casually towards them, his hands open and outstretched in a placating manner.

"Well, a busy day for me today indeed!" the man greeted them cheerfully. "Strange noises throughout the night, and now a plethora of people strolling about the wood. You do look a touch more hospitable than the last two I met though. Well met, strangers. I am called Kolssed."

Laisha glanced at Imoen, taken aback by the man's open and friendly manner. She had been told that the world outside Candlekeep was harsh and suspicious, not warm and welcoming such as she was being faced with now!

Imoen simply shrugged, so, half suspecting another ambush like the one last night, but hoping that perhaps these were the friends of Gorion he had told her of come searching, Laisha questioned the traveller.

"What are you doing out here in the woods? We've heard nothing but how dangerous they are!"

"Me?" Kolssed replied mildy. "Oh, I'm a hermit. Well I'm rather new at it actually, and I haven't quite got the isolation bit down yet. Too much of a people person I suppose." he chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"Used to be a merchant in Nashkel, I did, but lost everything due to the iron shortage. Been wandering the woods for a while now, and it's rather relaxing, I must say. Aside from eluding the occasional bandit that is!" he grinned. "I'm generally left alone because I have nothing of value."

"What of the two people you saw?" Laisha quizzed him. "I was told to meet some friends at...the Friendly Arm Inn, I think? Perhaps they and the ones you met are one and the same?"

Kolssed pulled a skeptical face.

"Oh I doubt these are the ones you seek, young Miss. They do not seem the friendly type, and are far afield of the Inn."

Laisha's face fell. She had hoped that the Inn, with its promises of shelter and safety was nearby. The woods were unfamiliar to her and already the short amount of travelling along the road was making her legs ache.

"I left the pair not a moment ago just up the road," Kolssed continued. "You will have to pass them anyway if you wish to go to the Friendly Arm. There is a crossroads a ways to the east, and the Inn is north of that."

"Thank you," Laisha said gratefully as Imoen hastily scribbled down the given directions on a sheet of parchment. "My foster father and I were attacked last eve, and all I know is that I was to try for the Inn, but was not sure where to go. Your directions will be invaluable."

Kolssed shrugged with a disarming smile.

"Oh, I have little to give besides advice and good will, so I will provide you with both before you are on your way. Make friends where you can, as traveling alone is almost certain death along the Sword Coast. You will want to surround yourselves with like-minded companions," he smiled, nodding at Imoen. "lest you risk making enemies in your own party. Aside from these little tidbits of wisdom, I'd say you're on your own. Tymora be with you."

"And with you!" the girls chorused, feeling somewhat lighter after the conversation and blessing, and they watched Kolssed amble off down the path before continuing east.

As they walked, Laisha scoured the surrounding bushes, hoping to recognize the place where Gorion had veered from the path last night. She felt strongly that she should find the spot where he had fallen and set him properly to rest. Imoen, too was distracted, chattering away happily to Pan and pointing out every new flower, scurrying animal or chirping bird that they came across. So it was that when it was that then they rounded a corner and stumbled into the pair that Kolssed had advised them about they were quite unprepared.

A strange, dirty little man, about half the size of a full grown human eyed the girls up and down with a strange glint in his eye as he scraped a stone down the length of his short sword, sharpening the already deadly looking blade.

"Hold it there, kiddies. Rather strange place to be wandering, ain't it?" He spat off into the woods. Now listen, my companion has something to say to ye."

"Montaron! You are so aggravating! 'Tis disturbing to my demeanour!" The girls jumped as the green robed human shrieked at his diminuitive counterpart, then turned to them with a hideous grin, his bony hands caressing a bound spellbook as he spoke.

The halfling snarled back at the wizard who appeared to be his companion.

"Disturbing? Ha! Ye already be disturbed, now leave me be! Yer company be toil enough as is!"

"Hold, Montaron, these young wayfarers are in need." the wizard stated, dismissing the argument between them as he gazed first at Imoen, then settling on Laisha, as the halfling merely grunted and resumed sharpening his sword.

"Someone has set about thee, strangers, and you have barely escaped with your life."

"Aye, Xzar," Montaron chipped in. "looks to have been roughed up quite well."

Laisha stared at the strange mage. Could he have been involved somehow in the attack on her and Gorion? But no, she considered. There had been ogres and archers, and a cleric, along with the demonic man. Xzar looked in surprisingly good physical shape for a magic user, and certainly seemed a little less than stable, particularly with the demonic seeming tattoos he had inked all over his face, but he did not have the overwhelming presence she had sensed last night in Gorion's killer.

"Indeed!" Xzar grinned toothily, and Laisha reeled, wondering if the mage had been reading her mind, but no, he was still stuck on his own freewheeling thoughts.

"I can offer you healing potions, if you wish, as a token of good will."

Laisha blinked in surprise. Imoen, strangely tonguetied, simply shrugged and Laisha gratefully accepted the unexpected offer. First Kolssed, and now a helpful alchemist. Stangers seemed to be positively encouraged in these woods outside Candlekeep!

"My thanks, kind ...Xzar, is it? I'd be grateful for any assistance."

"Nothing to fear from these simple potions" Xzar leered as he dug his bony hands deep into the pockets of his robe and tossed stoppered vials at Laisha and Imoen, "and I'll not even hold you in debt, though your conscience knows otherwise."

"Just like all good people." snorted the halfling, and spat again.

Laisha stashed her potion into her own robe as she puzzled out this strange pair. For all his uncouthness, the halfling looked to be deadly and skilled with his treasured blade. The mage was obviously a smooth talker when he wanted to be, and was trying to talk her into agreeing to assist him, that much was obvious. As proof of her deductions, Xzar cleared his throat.

"Perhaps as payment for our assistance, you would go with us to Nashkel?" Xzar asked pleasantly as Imoen raised her brows and mouthed "where the blazes is Nashkel?" Laisha simply shrugged as the mage pressed on.

"It is a troubled area, and we mean to investigate some disturbing rumours surrounding the local mine. Some acquaintances of Monty and I are very concerned about the iron shortage. Specifically, where to lay blame in the matter. You would be useful," Xzar smiled superciliously, recognizing a fellow magic user in the half-elf and seeing Imoen carrying her bow, "though of course I shall not hold you to it. We are to meet the mayor of the town, a man named Berrun Ghastkill, I believe."

"Your conscience be your guide," Montaron added, and Laisha gave the little man a sharp look, as he was obviously goading them, daring the girls to turn the request down after they had been given the potions for free.

"Give me a moment," Laisha asked the mage, and he frowned. "I have to talk with my friend, first." She grabbed Imoen and the two stepped aside out of hearing into the woods a little.

"What do you think, Immy? "

"Well..." the young thief spoke hesitantly..."it sounds excitin' an' all...I've never even heard of this Nashkel place. And everyone seems all upset about this iron crisis thing, even back at Candlekeep. I bet we could be heroes if we could sort it all out! That mage speaks like he's layin' honey on bread, but I dunno, I don't like his eyes a single bit! And shouldn't we try and meet those friends of Mr. G he kept talking about first? At least let 'em know you're okay and all. They'll know what to do, I bet!"

Agreed on a course of action, the two returned to the path where the expectant mage and surly halfling were waiting.

"We would join with you, "Laisha said firmly, "but we must meet someone first. Perhaps you will go with us?"

"We've precious little time," Xzar sighed, "but it's best to travel accompanied."

"Aye, we'll go wit ye," Montaron scowled, "Ye owe us fer our time though!"

Laisha sighed. She could see that Montaron would be presenting her with a bill full of imagined services at some future point, and hoped Xzar would keep his baser instincts under control.

They set off along the path, making what seemed to Laisha to be an unseemly amount of noise. They had better get more accomplished at travellign through the wilderness, and fast, or they were more like than not to be found by some of the bandit gangs that were rumoured to rule the area.

A rustling in the bushes brought Laisha out of her revelry, the movement accompanied by a sudden shrill screaming and jabbering that put even Xzar's to shame. Out of the woods burst a swarm of half a dozen hunchbacked blue-furred humanoids, all fang and fur and sharp claws, their toothed maws drooling insanely.

"Gibberlings!" Montaron cried, brandishing his sword and charging in. "Back me up or feel me wrath!"

Imoen immediately began firing arrows into the horde, as Laisha and Xzar flailed away with their slings, flinging hard round stones at the beasts, unwilling to waste their precious magicks on fiends such as these.

Imoen struck true, a fletched arrow sticking out of one gibberling's chest, cuasing it to reel back in pain. Laisha's stone struck the wounded beast in the chest and it collapsed with a groan to the ground. Momtaron hacked and slashed at three others as they surrounded him, poking one in the belly and twisting the sword viciously, disembowelling the hapless gibberling. Delighted with their first attack, the girls combined again, arrow and stone felling a third and fourth beast as Xzar's flung stone took a chunk out of another's arm. It howled in pain and rage, lashing out at Montaron, scratching him down the face, causing the enraged halfling to turn and slash at it's neck, a torrent of blood spewing out as it flew back , lifeless. The girls combined again to bring down the sole remaining gibberling, and the four companions stood amidst the carnage, struggling for their breath as they surveyed the damage done.

"Monty? Are you okay?" Imoen asked, reaching out to the little man.

"Oh sure" the halfling responded sarcastically. "I always bleed like this at this time of the day. And my name is Montaron, not Monty or anything else your addled little brain might dream up, girlie. Best you remember that before you end up as dead as these buggers." He kicked out angrily at the corpse of the one that had scratched him.

Laisha leaned over, studying the strange creatures.

"What were these things?"

"I told ye! Gibberlings.! Ye'd do well to listen to me when I talk, I ain't just a pretty face!" he leered.

"Yer lucky there was only a handful of 'em, usually they swarm at ye by the dozens. Hungry little blighters they are too, all they want is food." He grinned toothily. "Strip ya to the bone., they do, slurp the marrow right out of ye!" he chortled as Xzar broke from his reverie.

"Bone? Marrow? You make my hungers drool! Pray do tell, what delicacies are for dinner, Monty old chum?"

Montaron shot him a disgusted look, matched by the girls.

"Pah! Best we move along before the mad wizard blows us all the gods-knows-where" Montaron grunted, and the group set off once more.

Imoen soon discovered a patch of trampled grass veering off to the north of the path, heading into the woods.

"Laisha, look! She said excitedly. "This must be where Gorion led you last night. It shouldn't be too far!"

The thief's words proved prophetic. All too soon, the party of four came to a clearing where charred trees still smoked away from the force of magical fire. Laisha stopped and gulped, knowing what was to come. Imoen's hand on her shoulder steadied her and she pressed on as the wizard and halfling gazed around.

"Ha! So this is what nearly killed ye, huh elfling?" Montaron whistled as he surveyed the carnage. Xzar pranced around the site, giddy and wide eyed.

"Ohh such power, such magical forces at play. Sulfur and guano and death, oh my!"

The two girls ignored the capering wizard, their eyes fixed on the bodies of the fallen.

Two large ogres lay side by side, slain by fearsome magiks. At the edge of the clearing lay another body, this one smaller, human, a dropped bow by its side...and in the middle, a grey cloaked man whom Laisha had looked up to all of her life, somehow seeming small, even frail in death. The body of Gorion.

She choked back a sob, Imoen's hug reassuring her that her friend was nearby.

"Is...is that Gorion?" Imoen asked softly.

"Yes. He died saving me from some...thing."

The mage and halfling stood by impassively as the two girls tentatively approached the body.

"Ah pick up the pace, girlies. 'E's too far gone to be bitin' ya." Montaron snorted, then shot a sidelong glance at Xzar. "Isn't he?"

"Hmmm?" the wizard jolted back into the present from some twisted fantasy. "Oh well, one never can tell, all kinds of delightful things can happen to corpses, hee hee!"

"Doncha even know what attacked you? Whatever it was, looks like it was vicious." Imoen observed, looking around at the scorched clearing.

"It was too dark to see much, but it was humanoid, although I couldn't see a face," Laisha began hesitantly. "His eyes glowed though...like hell's fire. And he would have gone straight for me if Gorion, gods rest his soul, had not barred his way."

"I see..." Imoen said thoughtfully. "Hmmm...so he wasn't after Gorion, but you. I don't like this, Lai, don't like it at all!

"I don't either, but I have to find out what's going on, and why I was attacked. I don't want to drag you into this, though, Im."

"Leave?" Imoen scoffed "And if I did, who would keep ya entertained? Who would keep your spirits lifted in the darkest hour? And who would keep up the practical jokes?"

Touched beyond words, Laisha picked up the dagger lying at Gorion's side, handing it on to Imoen.

"Here, You should have this, he'd want you to." Imoen smiled softly and accepted the dagger, slotting it into the sheath on her belt, before kneeling in turn and unbuckling the belt around Gorion's waist.

"Here, this is for you. I know he'd want you to take it. Oh! I almost forgot!" she gasped, before filching a sheet of parchment from the pocket of Gorion's robe.

"Here, Lai. This is the letter he received, the one I told you about."

Laisha moved away from the greedy prying eyes of Xzar, and unfurled the parchment, her eyes quickly scanning over the words.

"**Gorion,**

**Please forgive the abruptness with which I now write, but time is short and there is much to be done. What we have long feared may soon come to pass, though not in the manner foretold, and certainly not in the proper time frame. As we both know, forecasting these events has proved increasingly difficult, leaving little option other than a leap of faith. We have done what we can for those in thy care, but the time nears when we must step back and let matters take what course they will. We have, perhaps, been a touch too sheltering to this point. **

**Despite my desire to remain neutral in this matter, I could not, in good conscience, let events proceed without some measure of warning. The other side will move very soon, and I urge thee to leave Candlekeep this very night, if possible. The darkness may seem equally threatening, but a moving target is much harder to hit, regardless of how sparse the cover. A fighting chance is all that can be asked for at this point**

**Should anything go awry, do not hesitate to seek aid from travelers along the way. I do not need to remind thee that it is a dangerous land, even without our current concerns, and a party is stronger than an individual in all respects. Should additional assistance be required, I understand that Jaheira and Khalid are currently at the Friendly Arm Inn. They know little of what has passed, but they are ever thy friends and will no doubt help however they can.**

**Luck be with us all.**

**I'm getting too old for this.**

**E."**

She rolled up the letter after reading it twice, stashing it into her pack. Gazing down at Gorion determinedly, she spoke quietly to Imoen.

"I need to bury him. Will you help me?"

The other girl nodded, tears welling in her eyes.

"Maybe one day we can return and add a small gravestone or something." Imoen offered.

Together, they dug a hole and buried the man both had looked at as a mentor for the whole of their young lives. Having scavenged a shabby set of leather armour and a rusty long sword off the dead, Montaron and Xzar waited impatiently, after refusing to help in the task.

"Never understood ye fancy dancy rituals," Montaron sneered. "The dead be gone, and ain't nothin' left in 'em corpses worth a lickin' for any but em wizards to use."

"Looks like the old man gets his final rest now," Xzar chimed in. "But why would not they let me take a finger or toe for a...memento?"

Ignoring the ghoulish pair, the girls dug steadily. After they were done, they stood back., their heads bowed in silent prayers to Mystra and Kelemvor, that Gorion's soul may finally rest easy. Near to the west, Laisha heard the sound of rushing water, a mighty waterfall that sent torrents of water cascading down over rocks into the river far below. Gesturing to Imoen to follow, she set off towards it, a fistful of dirt along with Gorion's prized amulet in her hands. Standing on the edge, she tossed the amulet over, into the rushing rapids below. Imoen followed suit with a clod of dirt and they stood there, bidding Gorion a fond farewell in their hearts.

When they were done, Laisha raised her eyes to find a foppish young man staring at them from the lip of the falls, not twenty yards away.

He started, blushing when he saw that the girls had noticed him staring.

"Hello...well...I was about to tell you not to come any closer, but that never seems to work, does it? Well regardless, I should remain true to the genre. Don't come any closer or I'll JUMP! Yeah, you heard me, and I'll do it, too! So...don't come any closer...again. And don't try to stop me!"

"Hey!" Imoen shouted. " Ya know what? Laisha over 'ere was just locked out of her home-town without a penny, and some monsters killed her father. If anyone here should be jumping cliffs, it's her! And d'ya see her jumpin'? So what's yer problem?

Laisha shrugged, irrritated by this overly dramatic young man who had interrupted her goodbye to her foster father.

"Okay. Jump then" she said simply, and turned to walk away.

"Okay?" the fop repeated incredulously, "...You aren't going to do a thing? Wow. You...you must have incredible faith in my will to live. No one has ever shown such trust in me, not ever! Not even Mumsey. Thank you so much for your quiet faith. I choose to live! I CHOOSE TO LIVE! Oh no! I have to get home before mumsey find the note! She has no stomach for such things. I'll have Jeeves double her usual cocktails and tell her of my new resolve! Thank you so much! Tra La! Life is grand once again!"

He rushed off, leaving Laisha cursing his stupidity in his wake. Now at her side, Montaron shook his head and snarled.

"Ye should've let me boot the fool over the edge, do his dirty work for him. More air for the rest of us" the bloodthirsty halfling said, and Laisha found herself laughing in agreement, the peals of laughter astonishing the little man, who peered up at her.

"Aha, ye have a mean streak in ye after all, girl, we may just get along yet!" 

The four of them set off again, with Pan safely nestled still in Laisha's pack. She could hear him purring contentedly in there, and saw no reason to force an introduction to Montaron and Xzar until he was ready, as she knew her mercurial familiar would do so in his own time. Her spirits unexpectedly lifted by her farewell ceremony to Gorion, she found herself enjoying the walk through the woods, until Imoen, scouting ahead, suddenly bid the rest of them stop with a sudden hand gesture. Concerned, the party froze, and Imoen crawled back to Laisha, whispering.

"Lai? You're better accustomed to magic, and even nature and all that. Why would a tree glisten with light?"

"Glisten?" Laisha questioned her friend. "What do you mean? Like sap?"

No, no, no! There's something weird about a tree up ahead, I swear! There's a knot in the tree trunk and something in the middle of it is shining when the sun hits it! I just don't know if it's the type of tree or whatever, or it's something we should investigate? I never paid any attention to all those nature studies!"

A sigh emanated from Laisha's pack, and a feline voice, tinged with just a hint of contempt, spoke up.

"Obviously trees do not naturally sparkle. Therefore, it would be a reasonable assumption that there is something wedged in this knot that may pay the young thief to investigate. Now can you PLEASE send the irritating one to do just that so I may return to my slumber?"

Laisha giggled as Imoen stuck her tongue out at Pan in the pack and Xzar stared boggle-eyed and delighted at Laisha's pack.

"The marvellous talking bag is correct, my young companions, pray go investigate forthwith!" His bony hands reached out greedily for the bag which Laisha swung neatly out of his grasp.

"Oh I wouldn't, Xzar" she warned merrily, "you might make it angry. You wouldn't like it when it's angry!"

A crestfallen look passed over the wizard's face, as Imoen started whooping in delight.

"Woo! The fat man's blessing worked! Tymora favors us, Lai, here's proof!"

She tossed over a small object that Laisha swiftly snatched out of the air before Xzar or Montaron could intervene.

"A diamond!" she gasped. "Why would a diamond be hidden in a tree?"

"Bandits." Montaron suggested. "The roads are full of' em. Some idiot probably thought if he had nothing worth stealing on him they'd let him live. They would have just shot him full of arrows and been on their way regardless." he grinned as Laisha returned the gem to Imoen.

"Here ya go Im, finders keepers. You're the best at looking after the pretties."

She stashed it away in a pouch, just before a man clad in the brightly garbed dress of a messenger hurried toward them on the path.

"Make way! Make way, I said! Binkos coming through, Sword Coast Messenger Service! Sorry chums, can't stop to chat. There's been another caravan raided northeast of Beregost and I must report of these dire straits to the Grand Dukes."

Seeing the bemused looks on the faces of the party he dashed past, departing with a cry of "A messenger's work is never done!"

"Another caravan raided?!" Imoen said excitedly. "Wow, that's no good! Remember those Flamin' Fists passin' by Candlekeep last week? They said there was at least two missing! I think we should keep our eyes peeled, or we'll be killed by bandits for nothin'! Excitin' though... Caravans, bandits, road... like an adventure from a book!"

As if on cue, a chilling howl came from the woods surrounding them and the party immediately weilded their weapons, fearing another gibberling horde. Instead, a pair of two wolves, obviosuly emaciated and starving for food padded out, baring their fangs and snarling. In her pack, Laisha felt Pantalaimon hiss violently and tremble as the lead wolf leapt for her throat. Luckily, Montaron was there before it could reach, sinking his sword into the poor animal's ribs, cutting short its desperate lunge. Imoen was busy firing off arrows into its partner, and the hapless wolves quickly fell under the onslaught of fury from the party.

Lowering her quarterstaff, Laisha pondered how quickly killing became a natural state out here in the wild, not only for animals and beasts, but for humanoids as well. Only a day ago, she was happy enough living a sheltered life in the citadel of Candlekeep. Now, she was travelling with dangerous companions and dealing killing blows with little more than a second thought.

Laisha mulled over the messenger's news. Would it be better to stay on the road with all these reported raidings and banditry, or take to the woods, off the beaten track? She would consider it, but for now, lead her party on towards the crossroads along the Lion's Way.


	3. The Coast Road

**The Coast Road**

A half day's worth of travel behind them, the weary band trudged along the path, each bend in the road seeming the same as the last. Laisha fervently hoped that they were going the right direction. Kolssed had bid them go east until they reached a crossroads, but the sun was on it's downward path in the sky and still no crossroads appeared. It wasn't until Imoen crawled back to her from scouting out ahead that Laisha regained some hope that she hadn't somehow managed to get the group irrevocably lost.

"Lai! There's a HUGE stone sign up ahead. We must be getting close, I think, it says we're on the Lion's Way.

"We already knew that, stupid girl!" Xzar muttered irritably.

"Yes, but they wouldn't have a sign up for it unless there were other options nearby to go down other paths. I think we're headed in the right direction!" the young thief skipped with glee, then skidded to a halt!

"Oh! I almost forgot! There's an old man ahead up there."

"A man? That _**might **_ be something you could have told us earlier!" The group grabbed their weapons in readiness.

"Yeah, he's an old guy. Just resting in the shade of the stone, I think. Didn't seem to be a threat, not to the likes of us, anyway! Ha!"

Laisha heard a skeptical sniff from her cat in her pack and the band moved on warily, conscience that they were in full view as they trudged along the road. Presently, they saw the towering stone sign Imoen had told them of. Indeed, resting at the foot of it was an elderly man garbed in robes and a pointed hat. On seeing the party he rose to his feet with a grunt and called out in welcome.

"Ho there wanderers, stay thy course a moment to indulge an old man. It's been nigh unto a tenday since I've seen a soul walking this road, and I've been without decent conversation since. Traveling nowadays appears to be the domain of either the desperate or the deranged; If thou woulds't pardon my intrusion, might I inquire which pertains to thee?"

Ever unable to resist a pert quip, and a little irritated at the nosy old man's assumptions, Laisha stepped forward and responded in kind.

"Not to imply anything, but how do you measure up to your own standards? Pestering strangers about their mental state doesn't seem all that well adjusted to me."

Behind her, she heard Imoen gasp at her impertinence. Montaron wielded his blade threateningly and Xzar mumbled to himself aggravatedly. Even Pan weasled his way up and stuck his head out of the pack to see the response to his wizard's words.

To everyone's astonishment the man threw back his head and laughed resoundingly.

"Point well taken, and thou hast answered my query most adequately," the man grinned.

"I shall think of thee as determined instead. I shall trouble thee no more, as thou art more than capable of the task at hand. North is the Friendly Arm Inn, where I am certain thou shalt find trustworthy friends awaiting. I have said too much and taken too much time from thee. Fare thee well."

Laisha nodded her goodbyes, feeling strangely relieved to be in the traveler's good graces. She too laughed when she felt the cuff of a cat's paw at her nape.

"Fool! Could you not feel the energy, the power, emanating from the man?! Your smart-mouthed quip could have turned us all into toadstools had he the inclination!" Pan bristled, as angry as Laisha had ever seen him.

Despite her feline companion's rage, she could not for the life of her quell her mirth.

"Ah, but he didn't, did he, Pan? We're still alive, and walking, and not in the least bit fungal! All those thee's and thou's might frighten YOU, but we "bipeds" are made of sterner stuff!"

Pan growled as fiercely as he could manage, leaped down and tortted off haughtily, muttering about foolish young wizards who didn't know what they were doing.

"I know dragons with feet like rabbits!" Xzar suddenly announced. "'Tis true, I swear!"

"Bah! The mad wizard is off on one of his 'spells' again," complained Montaron. "Ignore him, 'tis best for all concerned!"

"C'mon Montaron, lighten up. Must you be so moody all the time?" Xzar cackled as the halfling scowled and stomped off.

A half hour past the signpost, and Imoen came crawling back from scouting.

"There's some more weird little blue folks up ahead in the bushes," she announced cheerfully.

"More of those gibberling things?" Laisha asked anxiously.

"Uh-uh. Or at least I don't think so." Imoen frowned thoughtfully. "These guys are a bit taller, big heads, and hairless...still blue though. Quite excitable little fellas, screeching at eachother and waving their swords around all threatening like."

Montaron snorted. "Ah. Sounds like we've got ourselves a pack of xvarts, pesky little pests they are." He looked up at the girls. "Be careful, they can be deadly in packs...and those swords they carry will slice through yon robes and armor like butter if'n you ain't careful."

"Well why don't I see if I can even the odds a bit?" Imoen grinned and snuck back off. Montaron watched her go with a queer look in his eye..

"Hmmm. A wee bit of training and th' girl could be mighty fine." he muttered.

The three approached as stealthily as they could, Montaron leading the way, warning the wizards where to step and lift up their robes to avoid snags. From just ahead, they heard the muffled twang of Imoen's bow and a gurgled death rattle from her target.

"Got the scout!" Imoen whispered triumphantly. "One down, five to go!"

Her next arrow grazed the ear of the second scout and he late out a chilling warcry as he charged at the small group. A second arrow made him falter, but he slashed out viciously with his sword at Imoen before the enchanted dagger Fuller had gifted Laisha found its way to the xvarts heart and he dropped. His cry had alerted the rest of the warband however and they came charging, enraged at the sight of their dead pack members.

Imoen's arrows flew thick and fast, and Laisha frantically tossed weapons from her dwindling supply of throwing daggers, causing two more to fall.

"Ow!" she squealed as the blade of an xvart slashed at her arm, and Montaron was bleeding freely from a head wound as he thrust and parried angrily. Xzar stepped up behind one of the creatures and almost dreamily thrust his dagger into the thick neck of the xvart, severing the brainstem as his halfling companion gutted the last remaining enemy.

After regaining their breath and treating their wounds, the group scabvanged what gold and stolen jewels they could find on the bodies of the xvarts and continued on their way. Within the hour, the indeed reached the Coast Way crossroads. Another stone signpost awaited them, with intricate carvings pointing the way for lost and weary travelers.

**Coast way: Friendly Arm Inn to the North; Beregost to the south; Lion's Way West to Candlekeep.**

The Crossroads at last. Laisha beamed, exultant. She had passed her first self-imposed test, and lead her small band to the first point of reference. The Friendly Arm Inn lay to the north and they would be there within the day. Despite everything that had happened, her spirits were high.

"Onwards to the north, fine friends!" she called. Imoen glanced at her curiously as Xzar cackled furiously and Montaron scowled. An hour into their northward journey, with their hunger gnawing, Laisha called a halt at what seemed to be an opportune shady spot a ways off the path. The party rested their aching legs, feasting on cold meat and bread as Pan hunted for his dinner, enjoying the sounds and scents of the forest.

"Im?" Laisha began tentatively. "That letter that Gorion had on him...It was signed 'E', right?"

"Mmm-hmm," Imoen agreed, happily munching away on a chunk of cheese she's carved off with one of her unused daggers.

"Well...who do you think that could be? Someone obviously knows something about what's going on...Can you think of anyone? Someone Gorion might have known well with that initial?"

Imoen swallowed noisily and looked thoughtful.

"You mean someone who came to Candlekeep maybe?"

Laisha nodded.

"There's only one person I can think of who might be involved in something like this who came to Candlekeep...and he was there yesterday, when all this happened..."

"Elvenhair?" Imoen asked, eyes wide. "Old Firebeard? Golly, you're right, he WAS there wasn't he?

Laisha nodded guiltily.

"I was supposed to go back and see him...he asked me to fetch him a spell scroll he'd lent Tethtoril for him..."

"Oh? What happened?"

Pan looked up from his meal of pigeon long enough to smirk as Laisha flushed.

"I...I scribed it into my spellbook...and the writing disappeared.."

Imoen gaped, intrigued..."Is that what happens to magic scrolls?"

"Oh yes," beamed Xzar from across the clearing, "all the secrets of the realms can be held in our little books, and they disappear from everywhere else. We are the keepers of such secrets that would blow your mind, little one" he laughed hysterically.

"Aye," Montaron said, thumbing at Xzar, "and there's yer proof right there!"

Imoen ignored the bickering pair, turning her attentions back to Laisha.

"Well Lai, here we are, traveling the good road. Some grand adventure we're having, huh? Not exactly what we used to daydream about but still, kinda exciting, I guess. I'd rather be out here, going places and doing things, than be stuck in Candlekeep, cleaning out stables and turning down beds. We can do a lot of good, I think." the young thief beamed.

She lay back, stretching out under a large oak.

"Wonder if they'll make a tale of our adventures?" she said idly. "Just think, one day folks'll be in the common room of some inn, maybe even the Candlekeep Inn, and they'll ask a bard to tell 'em a tale of Imoen the Quick and her trusty sidekick Laisha!"

Laisha raised a brow.

"Imoen the Quick?" she said skeptically.

"Sure!" her friend grinned. "Quick with the bow and quicker with the wit!"

Both Laisha and Pan rolled their eyes in unison, causing Imoen to break out in peals of laughter.

Thumbing through his disturbingly skin-like spellbook, Xzar carped malevolently as he gazed up at the rays of sunlight streaking through the canopy of leaves overhead.

"I never liked the sun. 'Tis just too...bright."

"I much be prefer'n the cover o' night, o'er this blasted daylight!" Montaron agreed fervently.

Xzar shot his companion a sly glance.

"Tell us a story, Monty. Something with bears and gold."

"Shut it!" the halfling yelled. "Ye be living longer if ye don't annoy me!"

"If ye don't mind, please try to keep your voices down. There be beasties about with better hearing then we." a soft but insistent voice intruded.

Montaron whirled around as Imoen opened her eyes and moved to a sitting position, bow at the ready. Laisha eyed the man warily, sizing him up as a hunter as Imoen glared at him.

"Hey, ya grouch!" she said indignantly, "we weren't shoutin' at all. We are adventurers and understand such things, ya know. Tell him, Laisha!"

"Sorry to have disturbed you" she said placatingly. "We were but resting a short while and will be on our way."

The man's stern features softened somewhat.

"I did not intend for my words to scare you away. They were a simple warning of dangers true, and meant as nothing more. The occasional chat is certainly welcome, but perhaps today is just not the best day for it. My name is Aoln, and I hunt these woods for meat to feed my family."

Laisha nodded.

"What should I be wary of in this area?" she asked, mindful of the horrid gibbering beasts that had twice attacked her party.

"'Round here? I wouldn't worry yourself too much, unless you're brainless and charge everything you see." Aoln cast an eye over the group as he spoke. "Mostly gibberlings out here, but they aren't too much of a hassle. A fair bow and good sword-arm could handle one, maybe two. More with mage or cleric backup. Wolves have become a bit more predatory lately. I think it's because more people are hunting for their food, seein' as how the iron shortage took away their normal livelihoods. A hungry wolf is a nasty thing, and I wouldn't travel without a group if I were you."

"Thank you, that's sage advice." Laisha decided to flatter the man.

"You seem quite at home out here. What's the most dangerous thing you've seen?

"The most dangerous thing I intentionally went after?" The hunters face darkened.

"Stalked an ogre mage for a few days once. Had a party of me own back then. Killed the ogre, lost the party. Not really worth the trade, if you ask me. I've seen more dangerous beasties, but usually over my shoulder as I'm making tracks as fast as I can. No shame in running when your life is on the line. Off with you now, I've meat to catch."

"A lovely tale to tell a group of travelers on the road." Pan murmured to Laisha as he curled back up into her pack as Aoln disappeared back into the surrounding woods

"Ogre mage? Bah! Fairy tales to scare witless children! Any ogre I've ever met was too damn stupid to bother with magics. " Montaron scowled as the party gathered themselves up to resume their travels.

They continued north, choosing to stay along the road, as the calls and cries from the forest set their nerves on edge. Restless, Pan scouted ahead, using his swiftness and silence to venture where the group dared not. At one point he returned to the group.

"There is something worth investigating to the left." he announced, tail twitching with excitement.

"A most interesting ring half buried in the tall grass awaits your perusal. I believe it has some magical qualities that may come in useful if used correctly."

Carefully they followed the cat off the path, where he led them to the abandoned ring. Both Laisha and Xzar made a grab for the ring as they too, could sense it's unmistakable magical qualities.

Laisha got there first, but held it out in her palm for the older wizard to study.

"I can sense its power, Xzar, but do you know exactly what it does?" she asked tentatively. The wizard leant in, one mad eye whirling crazily...he sniffed it, listened to it, caressed it with his skeletal fingers, even crooned to it wordlessly...Laisha watched his divining process with bemusement, right up to the point where the mage bared his teeth and went to bite it, whereupon she snatched her hand away with a barely concealed shudder.

"Bah! How can I divine its intentions if you will not allow me to study it fully?" the winard complained.

A third stone cairn soon pointed their way upon the path.

"Friendly Arm Inn to the North" , it stated, giving Laisha confidence that she was leading the group the right way. North they continued, deep into the night, until at long last a towering castle lay in sight to their tired eyes.

Laisha looked at the spires far in the distance with mixed feelings. The Inn ostensibly promised safety, and companions...but she had the prickly feeling of being herded there, by Gorion's letter, the hermit in the woods, even the strange wandering mage who had seemed so concerned with her mind state, and that made her irritable. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered whether the Friendly Arm Inn may not be friendly to her at all...


	4. The Friendly Arm Inn

**The Friendly Arm Inn.**

It was mid of night by the time the party finally came to the Inn, Laisha's nightvision from her elven heritage proving invaluable in avoiding potholes and stumbling obstacles along the road. She called a halt before they came fully in view of the Inn. It was definitely not what she expected. Far from a homely, cottage style establishment, the Friendly Arm Inn was a towering brick castle, cold and imposing.

Two guards stood on the open drawbridge at the entryway, seemingly casual in their stance, but their eyes noting every movement around them. Taking a breath and throwing caution to the wind, Laisha strode forward as the tired group straggled up the wooden bridge, where she was greeted with a nod and well practiced greeting.

"Welcome to the Friendly Arm. I trust you know the rules of conduct within?"

Imoen pulled a face and whispered.

"Rules? Booooooooooring"

Laisha gave her a quick glare and shushed her, then turned back to the guard who was trying to remain stern.

"There are rules?" Laisha asked. "What kind of rules?"

"Well, perhaps 'rules' is a touch too formal. It is unwritten, but accepted, that while herein you will act with the utmost of civility to all other guests. This is neutral ground, and all grievances are left at the gates. If the grievances come in, then you will go out."

Laisha nodded and relaxed. Nothing she wasn't used to back at Candlekeep. She had no intention of starting any hostile behaviour here, so these rules seemed to actually be in her favour. The guards, seemingly used to travelers of all descriptions turning up at all hours, moved aside and called after them as the party moved into the grounds.

"Enjoy your stay."

Laisha mulled over that, stuggling to find any hint of veiled threat or irony in the statement, but decided to let it go and take it at face value.

Surprisingly, there were a few people wandering the vast grounds even at the mid of night. They obviously felt secure enough within the grounds to wander as they wished, and Laisha felt curious eyes on the newest arrivals to the Inn. The nearest man approached them amiably.

"Travelers, huh?"

Laisha nodded in response, and encouraged, the man continued.

"You're the first group to come into town all day. Not many have braved the roads since all the trouble started up. We've seen only ten new faces in the last month. Found a lot of bodies, unfortunately. "

Xzar perked up at that statement, and opened his mouth eagerly but Laisha quelled him with a sharp look.

"Never mind, Xzar." she said flatly, and the mad wizard backed away, crestfallen.

A second man joined the first, eyeing the band's weapons appreciatively.

"Used to be a bandit, I was. More money there than in the mines of Nashkel, that's fer sure. Probably less danger, too, from the sounds of it."

Intrigued despite her better judgement, Laisha addressed the ex-bandit.

"You were a bandit, were you?"

"That I was and I ain't afraid to say it, neither. But those bandits out there now, they're different, I tells ya. They've got a mean streak in 'em and their minds set on taking over the whole area... Most of my old pals have gone missin' and I don't like it one bit. That's why I'm holed up here. I've been good to Bentley and Gellana in the past so now it's their turn to look after me."

"Well, what's so dangerous about the Nashkel mines?"

"Well, if you believed every tale you heard, you'd have to say the King of the Nine Hells himself were down at the bottom of it, smoking a pipe and making himself comfortable. To be honest, I don't know what's down there. All I know is that a lot of the folks who work in that infernal place don't ever make it back up to the surface."

Xzar and Montaron exchanged a long, meaningful glance that Laisha noted but didn't understand.

"We should go to Nashkel as quickly as possible." Xzar said cheerfully. "Coming here has only delayed us foolishly. It would not do to keep the King of Hells waiting. He and I have business together!" he giggled demonically and the townsfolk carefully backed away.

Seeing their startled looks, a wandering grounds guard strode up, declaiming emphatically.

"There is to be no fighting or stealing within the walls of the Friendly Arm Inn! Aggressors will be punished to the full extent of frontier law!"

Pouting a little at the "no stealing" rule, Imoen whispered.

"What do ya think frontier law is?"

Montaron grinned eviily.

"That'd be hanging he's talkin' about, girly. By the neck, til ye be dead. Crrckkkk!"

Imoen shuddered as the wicked halfling chortled with delight. Their wanderings took them around to a large expanse of farmland, crops growing in rows and a few head of cattle lowing between munching on grass. The sight of them brought sudden, unexpected pangs of homesickness for Laisha as she thought of Nessie and Dreppin back at Candlekeep. A familiar smell, of soil and cattle hit her nose, and she turned, almost expecting to see Dreppin's weather beaten face smiling back at her. Instead, it was someone unfamiliar and scowling.

"Damn it, my plow broke apart like it had rusted out in a single overnight. How's a man supposed to get any work done and make his living? Can't keep prices down if I have to plant everything by hand."

Laisha glanced at the broken pile of metal heaped in the corner that had once been a plow. A younger man approached now, apologizing for his father's gruff demeanour.

"My Father's farm is at a standstill. One by one his tools break , and replacements are priced incredibly high. If we don't get a good stock of ore before harvest, crops will be rotting in the fields. Can't manage a farm with your bare hands. "

The older man, seeing his son talking to the adventurers, stalked back and snarled.

"I've trouble enough without strangers in my face. If I want to chat, I'll come see you first thing, but for now I just want to be left alone."

A man stood at the doorway of one of the small dwellings that dotted the ground. He nodded in greeting as he emptied his pipe upon the ground, then repacked and relit it.

"I'm moving out soon, what with all the rumours about Amn going about. I hear they have an army down in Nashkel. Gonna use the Friendly Arm to launch against the Gate, I hear. Hopefully I'm gone by then. "

The largest building on the grounds, bar the huge imposing Inn itself seemed to serve as a chapel. Stepping forward to inspect, Laisha found it was dedicated to the gnomish god Garl Glittergold. A curious devotion, she thought, to the pantheons of luck and trickery, an observation that did little to set the half-elf at ease. All was shrouded in darkness save for a solitary burning candle and Laisha resolved to investigate it in the morning.

To the left, a narrow set of ancient stone stairs led the way up to what Laisha presumed would be the entry to the Inn proper. As she set foot on the bottom step a robed figure peeled himself from the wall and approached her, studying her face thoughtfully.

"Hi friend. I've not seen you here before tonight. What brings you to the Friendly Arm?"

"Me? I'm here to meet some friends." Laisha replied.

"Oh, you must be whom I am to meet, then. I will take you to your friends, but first I should be sure you are the correct person. Is your name Laisha?"

"Why, yes it is." Laisha confirmed, ignoring the worried sounds behind her from Imoen.

"Perfect. You are indeed the person I seek. Now hold still a moment, will you?"

"Wait, what?" Laisha started, confused.

The robed man began chanting ominously, and the companions cried out in alarm.

"Laisha! He's a mage! Beware!" Imoen shouted, notching up an arrow, then blinking in surprise as several copies of the assassin mage appeared before her eyes as he finished his incantation.

"I don't know which one to aim for!" she screamed in frustration.

"Just shoot, girlie, the one that bleeds'll be the real one" Montaron replied grimly as he drew the bow he'd filched from the body at the ambush site.

"Mirror Images! Dirty, dirty little tricks!" snarled Xzar as he began a chant of his own.

Imoen and Montaron unleashed arrows, stunning the enemy mage as all of a sudden two of his mirror images disappated from the arrow hits.

"Keep going, he's on the defensive!" Laisha cried, summoning her magics deep within her to try and cast a sleep spell on the mage as the Friendly Arm guards, roused by the furore, came charging in to join the battle.

The Weave responded to her call, and a burst of magical energy sprang forth, surrounding all who battled...and all participants stopped suddenly, astounded at the deathly silence that engulfed them. The mage on the steps found his next spell fizzling as he mouthed the words, but no sound emerged. Xzar found likewise and he groaned silently in disappointment. Montaron snarled soundlessly as he dropped his bow and advanced threateningly on the now frightened assassin, waving his short sword menacingly. He thrust savagely, straight through the man's throat, impaling him against the stone wall of the Inn as his body twitched and jerked for one final time before slumping lifeless onto the steps.

Laisha turned to the guard and raised a quizzical brow. "No fighting at the Inn, huh? How's that working for ya?"

Everyone jumped as Laisha's unexpected silence spell ended and the words came loud and accusatory.

The guard cleared his throat, and looked sheepish.

"I apologize, Miss. This man here had been at the Inn at least a week. Went by the name of Tarnesh, and never caused any problems...until now." he shrugged. "Well, by frontier law, what was his is now yours. He attacked you, so his possessions are forfeit. Anything you don't want can be left at the Inn as a donation."

Laisha nodded as Imoen knelt down by the corpse and gingerly picked through the pockets of his robe.

"Hmm some gold, a few scrolls, ooh spellbook! And...wait, what's this?" Imoen held up another scroll, etched in ominous looking writing.

"Uhhh Lai! I think you better see this!"

Laisha took the paper, her eyes widening as she scanned the parchment.

**BOUNTY NOTICE**

** Be it known to all those of evil intent, that a bounty has been placed upon the head of Laisha, the foster child of Gorion.**

** Last seen in the area of Candlekeep, this person is to be killed in quick order.**

** Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than two hundred coins of gold.**

** As always, any that reveal these plans to the forces of law shall join the target in their fate.**

Montaron cackled and waggled his hairy eyebrows up and down as he sneaked up the steps behind Laisha and read the note from over her shoulder.

"So, ye got a nice price on yer noggin, eh kid? Not bad. Makes me like ye somewhat. Be sure it stays this way, though, or I'll be collecting that sum meself."

"Smiles, everyone, Smiles! This is like some great fantasy!" Xzar proclaimed with a grin, causing Imoen and Laisha to glare at him.

"Let's just get inside before someone else decides I'm fair game." the exhausted half-elf grumbled and the weary band finally pushed open the doors to the Inn.

Inside, the Inn was bustling despite the late hour, drinkers of all description keeping the barmaids run ragged. A cry came up from the back of the room as a few heads turned their way.

"Hoy! 'ere comes the waif who slew the mage! Make way lest she cut you down too!" called a rough voice, and the bar broke out into laughter.

Laisha blushed scarlet as Xzar and Montaron scowled savagely. Behind her, she sensed Imoen shuffle nervously, her hand on the dagger in her belt.

A half drunk man approached the small band, flagon of ale thrust out in front of him merrily.

"Hey, friend! He greeted Laisha as an old acquaintance. "Glad to meet a fine sort such as yourself! I heard you gave that old Tarnesh what for, good for you!"

A little bemused, Laisha offered up her thanks.

"I'm Jopi, by the way. I can't stand the way the roads are cut off these days. Makes everyone cranky and hotheaded. Me uncle's in Baldur's Gate and I can't get there to see 'im."

"Oh?" Imoen piped in. "What does your uncle do?"

"He's a mage, and a crotchety ol' one at that! Goes by the name of Ragefast though as kids we always called him Grumpleskin. Har, if he ever caught us at it, he'd cast barkskin on us, so we'd wander around all brown-skinned and green haired and funny lookin' for a few hours."

"He sounds like fun!" Imoen grinned and Laisha agreed. "We should definitely look him up if we ever manage to get to Baldur's Gate! I'm sure he could teach us a thing or two!"

Attention quickly drifted from the group as they proved to be no threat or further entertainment, and discussions quickly restarted at the various tables dotting the ground floor. Laisha threaded her way through, picking up snatches of conversation as she went.

"The Iron crisis has taken everybody off guard. Why plan for a shortage when the resource is nearly unlimited? I guess we're paying for it now. I guarantee that if we survive through this it will never happen again. People will be hoarding metal for months." one man forecast gloomily.

His companion nodded as he took a swallow of ale.

"Pinch off the supply of iron and after a while the farmers can't sow, the smiths can't forge and by and by, an army finds itself disarmed of all but clubs and stavces. That's the kind of strife that makes a land vulnerable."

A third man, returning from the bar with a fresh tray of drinks scoffed and winked at Laisha.

"Don't you go believing every little thing being bandied about, girl. A lot of it is just people getting worried 'bout nothing. Those gossips in Beregost are always coming up with new rumors to tell travelers. Us here at the Friendly Arm, we should have more sense."

"Now that ain't true, Surrey!" the original speaker protested. "T'aint even safe to travel to Nashkel no more. I've been stuck here for weeks and weeks. Nothing to do but sit and drink."

Surrey arched a knowing brow.

"Oh? And I take it you'd do differently if you ever got your sorry carcass down to Nashkel, Gavin?"

"Well...no...but I'd like to have the option!" Gavin grumped as Laisha giggled and Surrey steered her up toward the bar.

"Not many come by the Inn since the bandit raids started up." Surrey told her. "It's good to see a new face...or four...about" he winked, glancing back at Imoen, Xzar and Montaron.

"I was getting pretty tired of the old ones. They do nothing but sit, drink and complain. Maybe I'll chance the roads and try and get back to Beregost one of these days.

"Back to Beregost?" Laisha inquired and Surrey nodded.

"I was an apprentice blacksmith under Taerom Fuirium in Beregost. With the iron situation being what it is, I thought i'd beteer head somewhere else. Waterdeep maybe. Taerom's having enough trouble making a go of it as it is. But heading anywhere seems to be tough enough, journeys should be kept short to avoid all those blasted bandits. I figure I could head back to Beregost and take up farming or something. Perhaps the Temple could use another pair of hands. Or mayhaps Nessie here can give me a few tips and I can wait tables!" He laughed, attracting the attention of the bustling barmaid.

"Welcome to the Friendly Arm Inn. Looks like you had a rough journey." she said, casting aglance over the battered group.

"Yes well, the roughest part was inside your walls!"

Her face darkened.

"Yes, I'm truly sorry about that. Bentley wanted the inn to be a safe haven for all sorts of travellers. Anyone can stay here but we don't tolerate any troublemaking within these walls. But you and your group did an impressive bit of defensive fighting."

She smiled.

"My name is Nessie, by and by. The Mirrorshades hired me to work at the Inn almost five years ago and now I wouldn't leave it for the life of me. It's wonderful here, with new faces passing through every day."

"So who are the new faces here now?" Laisha asked, peering around the room carefully.

Nessie smiled grimly.

"With the roads being what they are right now, there aren't too many faces around here that are new anymore. Let's see... well, Unshey's been taking this time to write a new book, that fearsome half-orc Dorn has been scowling and drinking by himself near the door... Who else? Landrin's on the top floor, drinking up a storm, and then there was...well, Tarnesh... I'm really sorry he caused you trouble. He was all wit and charm until he heard there were visitors at the gate. The guards say he jumped out of the shadows at you and there was nothing you could do. Oh, and Khalid and Jaheira have been waiting anxiously in the corner over there, sleeping in shifts to make sure they don't miss whoever it is they're waiting for. That's really about it. Everyone else has been here for the last two months at least. We're so full that the Mirrorshades have even talked of letting people throw down their bedrolls in the temple."

"Who are the Mirrorshades?" asked Imoen curiously.

"Oh, Bentley and Gellana. They run the place. Bentley's behind the bar, there, and you can usually find Gellana in the temple. I'm usually here, waiting tables and making sure everything stays nice and clean."

"Did Bentley build this place? It's so solid, it looks like it's been here forever!"

"Oh no, Bentley and Gellana didn't build the Inn! They found it...They were part of an adventuring party, not unlike your own. In the first few years following the Time of Troubles, when all the gods were walking the surface of our world, the inn was actually the hold of a powerful, undead priest of Bhaal, god of murder. With the evil cleric weakened by the death of his god, Bentley and Gellana were able to destroy him once and for all, thus laying claim to his troubled fortress."

"Wow. There's more to this place than I would have guessed." Laisha mused.

"The present is always a thin veneer over the past. Look closely at any building in the Sword Coast region and you can be sure that its stones are held in place by history's mortar." the barkeep advised, and then whirled about her merry way delivering drinks to the grousing patrons.

Laisha bought her own drinks then, for her and her companions. They deserved a taste of wine and ale after an assassination attempt, she thought, smiling as she pictured Winthrop and Gorion both scowling as the girls downed their alcohol. On her way back to her group, she bumped into an imposing half orc. This must be the Dorn Nessie has spoken of, she supposed.

"Hrmmm. It's about time, human. Bring me another flagon of ale." he commanded in an imperious tone used to being obeyed.

Laisha looked him up and down and sneered, despite his obvious muscle and threatening bearing. She had already being accosted tonight, and would not take lightly to being ordered!

"I'm NOT a human, nor am I your servant, Orc. Get your own damn ale."

Disinterested, the warrior waved her off.

"Then why do you bother me? Begone."

"Huh. Nothing would please me more." She blew a raspberry at him and his face darkened, but he turned away from her cheek and clicked his fingers at Nessie to serve him.

The four companions seated themselves at an empty table, partaking of their drinks and tearing off chucks from the cheese and bread Laisha had ordered. Montaron glared at the nearest table balefully as they gossiped and cast glances over their flagons at the makeshift party.

"I think it's those Zhentarim who've been causing all the problem 'round these parts. Amn don't have a real reason to invade, so it don't make any sense thinking they're behind it. Zhents don't need a reason though, and a lot of clues point to them too."

"Stay away!" one foolhardy man demanded of the halfling as he snarled. "I bet you're those Zhentarim. I hear the turn women into goats at the snap of their fingers. I heard they were behind the trouble in Nashkel and maybe other places as well. Just you stay away from me!"

"Aye, we turn women into goats, but what you didn't know is that we're skilled at turnin' men into women as well." Montaron smiled mirthlessly, his hand on his deadly dagger. "D'you want to be an example then?"

"Montaron! Stop it!" Laisha glared. Her eyes met his across the table and a fierce battle of wills ensued, broken only by an insane cackle from Xzar, lost in reverie.

"Aye, aye, " the halfling slumped back down into his chair and drained his ale. "But best ye sleep lightly, taskmaster, or a goat ye be made into, if not worse."

From beneath the table, content from lapping at a saucer of milk, Pan spoke up in between grooming his whiskers.

"You could always polymorph the runt into a squirrel, Laisha. I would very much enjoy pursing that one around.

Montaron's little feet lashed out viciously under the table, missing the swift cat by a mile.

"Bah! I be havin' enough of this conversation. Come, girl, and I be showin' ye the art of liberatin' fools who sleep in inns from their gold!"

He dragged the unsuspecting Imoen from her stool then, and the two disappeared into the crowd, looking shifty.

A drunken man swayed near the table where Laisha and Xzar sat, staring blearily at them, taking in their mage robes.

"I had me a friend that asked one of them smarty-pants mages why they didn't just conjure great walls of iron from outta the air," he said as Laisha listened, wondering where this was leading. "That there mage looked my friend square in the eye and asked him how secure he'd feel if the guards were outfitted in weapons and armor that were dispellable with nary a wink. I hate magic. Makes me nervous."

Laisha let that hang in the air a few moments before Xzar calmly liften his gaze and uttered

"Boo!"

The poor man squeaked and turned tail, shouldering other patrons aside in his haste to escape the mages table as Laisha and Xzar roared in laughter.

From the corner, she felt two pairs of eyes watching her, studying her. She mentally prepared herself for another attack as her keen ears sought to make out the hushed conversation between the two.

"C..calm yourself, dear. W...we must proceed c..c..carefully." the man said, a hand laid casually on his female companion's shoulder. Laisha turned, her gaze coolly meeting that of the two, and got a shock when she saw that they could have been her kin – unmistakably half-elves, both!

Upon recognizing they had been spotted, the pair approached her, weaving through the patrons with a watchful ease. Laisha noted the sword at the side of the male, the club hanging from a loop in the female's belt. They appeared competant and dangerous, in contrast to the majority of farming folk gathered at the Friendly Arm. It was the man who spoke to her first, in a gentle manner with a pronounced stutter.

"Something about you is f-familiar, child. Your manner reminds me of a s-sage I know, b-by the name of Gorion."

A light leapt within Laisha's chest as he spoke the name of her foster father, so recently deceased. These must be the two that Gorion had urged her to seek out, Khalid and Jaheira!

The female half elf harrumphed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"It is almost a slight on him, but I must admit I see it too." she muttered.

"Jaheira!" Khalid scolded her, conforming Laisha's hopes. " your m-m-manners! This must be the child that Gorion wrote of so often."

Gorion had written of her to others? Laisha had had no idea anyone outside Candlekeep even knew she existed!

"We are old friends of your adopted father." Jaheira spoke plainly. "He is not with you? I must assume the worst; he would not permit his only child to wander without his accompaniment."

A surly rebellion flared within Laisha then. She was plenty old enough to wander without a constant chaperone! Hadn't her experiences on the Coast Road proved that?!

"If...if he has passed, we share your loss" Khalid said sorrowfully as Jaheira continued forcefully.

"Gorion often said that he worried for your safety, even at the expense of his own."

Laisha winced then, the vision of Gorion insisting she flee as he battled the powerful group springing immediately to mind.

"He also wished that Khalid and I would become your guardians, if he should ever meet an untimely end. However, you are much older now, and the choice of your companions should be your own." Jaheira finished, casting a doubtful look at Xzar who was glaring at the pair malevolently

"We could t-travel with you until you get settled; help you find your l-lot in life." Khalid offered with a hopeful smile.

"It would be a fitting last service to Gorion, though we should first go to Nashkel. Khalid and I... look into local concerns, and there are rumors of strange things happening at the mine."

"Meddlers!" coughed Xzar suddenly, drawing a pointed look from Jaheira.

No doubt you have heard of the iron shortage? You would do well to help us. It affects everyone, including you. We are to meet the mayor of the town, Berrun Ghastkill."

Laisha wondered just how this so-called "Iron crisis" affected her. She wore no metal armor, wielded no sword, and plied no craft or toil that required the substance that she could see. A very few of her spell components were iron based, true, but she drew mainly from the Weave itself to provide her magics. Other than people complaining about it all the time to her so far, she could see no reason why the politicking and resoources shortage affetced her at all, and was a mite sick of people telling her why it should!

"I'm already going to Nashkel." Laisha said with an offhand air of superiority. "One of my current acquaintances wishes to visit there as well."

"Indeed? Interesting. In that case I think we should definitely travel as one. You can never be too careful about the dangers of the open road. Wherever they may spring from."

"Oh speak no more, lest ye gorge my sweet tooth!" Xzar snarled in response to the hostile look Jaheira gave him and rose from the table.

"I must take my leave, and take to my grave..err bed, yes bed, haha, to recover my abilities, lest we begin tomorrow as we ended today." he told Laisha as she nodded in response, relieved to put some distance between the wizard and the half elves.

Upstairs, Montaron was schooling Imoen in the art of snooping into people's room without being conspicuous at all.

"C'mon, girlie, it's for the good of your pointy-eared friend down there," the halfling wheedled. "If we don't know who else is staying here, we don't know who else wants 'er dead, do we?"

Noting Imoen's skeptical look, the little man continued.

"And we don't know who's staying here without checking out their rooms and carefully guarded valuables. You can tell a lot about a man by what he values high enough to put it behind a lock."

"Hmmm I guess you're right," the young rogue conceded with an eager grin, and the pair drifted into the shadows, trying every door and chest within their grasp!

After observing the girl filch a purse full of gold and a handful of semi-precious gems, Montaron was satisfied that her insatiable curiousity would propel her through the rest of the Inn.

"I'm off t' bed," he grunted, waving a stolen bottle of wine. Don't disturb me, and if ye get caught by the guards due to yer slack handed methods, don't even think of bringin' my name into it. First rule of thievin', lassie, don't grass up yer fellows.

Imoen eyed him and smirked.

"Really, Monty? I would have thought the first rule would have been don't get caught!"

The halfling glared at the girl for a long moment, trying to figure out if he was being wound up or not. Imoen beamed back at him innocently, and the little man finally gave up and stomped off to his room, throwing a final comment back.

"And don't you come a sneakin' into my chambers, missy. I sleeps with one eye open, and if ye try anything, ye be missing a hand come morning!"

Stifling a laugh, Imoen watched him go, giddy with excitement to begin exploring the Inn and ontain a few ill-gotten goodies in the process. It was for Laisha's good, she told herself solemnly. If she could help her friend by finding out who was staying in the Inn with them and ferreting out what secrets they had with them, then surely her snooping was a good thing, right? Feeling fully justified, she began to try the doors that her and Montaron had not aleady covered. On the third door down, she halted in the doorway as a small dwarven lady looked up inquisitively from a desk covered in papers.

"Oh! Er, sorry, wrong room!" Imoen bluffed quickly.

"Oh i'm sure, dearie." the dwarf replied calmly. "Say, you came in with that uncouth lot downstairs, didn't you? Part of the group that the wizard attacked? I saw it all from my window here. Quite a fine shot with the bow you are, lassie. Just one of your many talents, I'm sure." she finished drily, looking at her unlocked door.

"I...um...well.." Imoen gaped.

"Close your mouth, girl, you'll catch flies. I might have a little job for you and your friends if you're interested. Have you heard? There's a rogue ogre with a belt fetish to the south of the Friendly Arm Inn. I had to bargain my new girdle of piercing for my life out there. Wasn't even interested in an autographed copy of my book. I'm a famous author you know, Unshey Starspire of Tethyr? Surely you've heard of me? No? Ah well, If you can get that belt back to me, I'd be mighty grateful."

"Well sure, Miss Unshey!" Imoen beamed. "We are strong and bold adventurers, we'll take out that ogre and get your belt back for you, no worries!"

Humming happily, Imoen ascended the stairs to the third floor, where in the common area, a loen gnome sat drinking from a glass of wine, staring into the flames of the burning fire.

"Hey there. You're the girl with the bow, right?. Come here, I'd like a word."

Imoen padded over.

"You must be Landrin, right? Nessie told us about you."

"Oh did she now. And what did that barwench say, that's I'm drinking Bentley out of house and home? Ha! Now, never mind all that, I heard about you and your friends, and I think I could make some use of you, if you'd be willing to help out an old lonely gnome."

"Of course! We are important adventurers and are taking on all manner of quests to help the needy!" Imoen puffed up with pride.

"Hmmm." Landrin eyed the young girl skeptically over her glass, then took another swallow. "Anyway, I've got an infestation of poisonous spiders in my cellar in Beregost. Bentley said I could stay here until they move on but I hate to impose. You'll know the house when you see it: just to the west of the Jovial Juggler Inn. Here, take these potions with you. They're antidotes against the poison. Keep whatever you don't use and I'll give you an extra 120 gold pieces if you bring back my husband's old boots that he keeps down there. If you bring back one of their bodies and my ol' bottle of wine as well, I might toss in a little something extra too."

Imoen beamed as she ventured idly into the large open sleeping areas at the back of the Inn. Already she had got her and Laisha two quests, helping innocent, helpless old women! And they'd get paid! She barely resisted the urge to click her heels in glee when she almost stumbled into a shabbily dressed man on a stool in front of a bare mattress.

"Can I help you?" He inquired, when he saw Imoen looking at him thoughfully.

"Oh! I'm sorry, it's just that I have seen quite the number of Nobles wandering the Inn. I was wondering how is it that you can afford to stay here?"

"The Arm caters to everyone, and everyone is more or less equal under her roof. " the man replied. " Some of the rooms do cost a bit more, but there is room for everyone at almost every price."

Imoen nodded in thanks and wandered off thoughtfully. This seemed like a good place to her, despite the attack on the stairs, a place where anyone in need could come and shelter. She sighed, for a moment picturing Winthrop pottering around the tiny by comparison Candlekeep Inn without her. He'd have to make all the beds himself now! She giggled, picturing the scene , then moved on to satisfy her curiousity about the other inhabitants of the Inn that night.

Downstairs, Laisha finished her third glass of wine and wiped her mouth. Despite the busy Inn, the raucous chatter had died down to a hush, most of the inhabitants having long taken to their bedrolls or rooms. Xzar and Montaron had retired, after a short conversation, Jaheira and Khalid had done the same. Imoen had disappeared, and even Pan, her familiar had vanished the gods-knew-where. It felt somewhat strange to be back in the company of so many people after the frantic couple of days she'd had, simply trying to get here.

She placed a handful of coins on the bar to pay for her and her companions rooms, and Bentley swept them into his fist, teeling her there was a space free on the third floor for her. She tiredly climbed the stairs, wincing at the thought that she still had several hours of study ahead of her into the night if she wished to transcribe the scrolls from Tarnesh's corpse into her own spellbook. "A wizard's work is never done." she grumbled to herself, then stopped suddenly, not knowing whether to be appalled or amused.

At a door to the left of the stairs, her friend Imoen was kneeling, peeking through the keyhole and giggling madly to herself.

"Immy! What do you think you're doing?" she hissed and the thief turned and shushed her, beckoning her to join her, but be quiet."

"Oh my, you've gotta see this Lai, it's hilarious!" she whispered, and Laisha in turn knelt and tried to peek through the small hole.

"My preciousssss" she heard first, and as her eyes adjusted, she struggled to stifle a sudden mad hiccuping laugh.

In the room, a nobleman stood, admiring himself in the mirror as he held up an odd pair of vibrant gold pantaloons to himself, twisting and turning this way and that.

"Oh my percious, you look positively DIVINE!" he crooned to his reflection. Beside her, Imoen was turning red from the effort of holding in her laughter, doubling her efforts at Laisha's astounded facial expressions. She reached out to punch Laisha's shoulder lightly, but the half elf was so off balance that with a squeak of dismay she tumbled right through the poorly sealed door and into the room itself!

She instantly glanced behind her, furious, but realised with dismay that Imoen had melted into te shadows, the only trace of her a finally released giggle. Blushing scarlet, Laisha picked herself up and dusted off her clothes, daring to meet the nobleman's gaze.

"About time you showed!" he merely said airily as Laisha gaped, and the man thrust a whole bundle of clothing into her arms.

"Here, I need these tunics cleaned and pressed by this eve, and be EXTRA careful with the golden pantaloons! It took 15 women and a small boy from Calimshan 12 days and 4 nights to weave them, so careful on the seams! Well? Get going!"

"Sir, yes Sir! Pantaloons pressed and ready by tonight or breakfast is free, sir!" Laisha finally found her wits, quickly putting on an act that she felt certain Imoen was watching mirthfully from her hiding place.

"Done and done!" the nobleman commanded happily. "Be on your way!"

Laisha hastily retreated, but had taken only a few steps from the door when she heard a barked command from behind her.

"Wait a moment! Don't you dare go anywhere!"

She halted guilty, certain that her little ruse was all about to be undone and she would be humiliated in front of the entire Inn.

"Here's an extra couple of coins. Put in a pleat that would make daddy proud, if you know what I mean! Now get!"

Never one to miss an opportunity, Laisha pocketed the coins, and happily got!

Back safe in the room she was sharing with Imoen, she lit a candle and spread her spellbook out upon her desk, along with the scrolls she had retrieved from Tarnesh's corpse. From across the room, a huddled shape under the blankets giggled

"Make daddy proud with that pleat!"

"Go to sleep, Immy!" Laisha hurled a pillow at her friend, satisfied by the indignant cry before finally settling down to work.

Unfurling the first scroll and reading the arcane print, she discovered that it was a scroll for the transmutation spell Burning Hands! This enabled her to cast a cone of fire that sprung from her very palms, scorching the flesh of her nearby enemies. She winced as she recalled seeing the aftermath of this spell once, on an unfortunate apprentice visiting Candlekeep. His hair and eyebrows had been singed to the root, and his blistered face and neck and taken a long time for the healers to mend. She shuddered at the thought of using this herself, but quickly reminded herself that people she didn;t even know were out there trying to kill her. If what they suffered was a firey death at her hands, then so be it! Grimly, she began to paintakingly transcribe the spell into her book.

As she finished, she became aware that Pan had returned at some point and was circling her feet. She reached down and scratched his head, receiving a purr of pleasure for her effort.

"What have you been kitty?" she asked idly, unrolling the second of the three scrolls.

Her familiar sniffed and began to clean himself.

"Assisting this hovel with it's burgeoning rodent problem," he replied haughtily. If I hadn't culled a number of them no doubt they would be up and nibbling at your toes come mid-morn as you slept."

"And of course there was nothing in it for you at all. You're SUCH a good samaratin, Pan" Laisha teased him and then sighed as she relaised the second spell was one she knew already, the very useful Armor spell.

He gazed up balefully.

"Unlike you, I prefer my rats raw, not basted in stew as you bipeds seemed to enjoy so much at supper." he said with unblinking yellow eyes, and Laisha poked her tongue out.

"Now what is the problem anyway, woman, why all the sighing at your studies? I thought Gorion had cured you of that habit long ago."

"This spell that Tarnesh had, I already know it. I'd hoped to get a few new spells from the man who tried to kill me!"

"Give it to that mad wizard you picked up in the forest." Pantalaimon suggested casually. "it may just alleviate his distress upon finding two of his own spell scrolls missing."

He jumped up on the desk then, and pawed across two more scrolls he had stolen from Xzar. Laisha laughed delightedly, sweeping him into her arms and cuddling him tight.

"Oh, my clever little cat, I do love you!"

Putting aside the scroll of Armor she'd earmarked to give to Xzar in the morning, she renewed her scribing with renewed vigor, the three scrolls entered into her book giving her immense satisfaction. Xzar's scrolls yielded up two necromantic spells, Minor Drain, an invention of the much feared Netherese Shadow King Larloch that was useful to increase her life force at the expense of an enemy's, and a relatively rare spell Xzar had simply called Chill Touch, another Netherese invention Laisha gathered, which channeled negative energy into those who opposed her, weakening their muscles and life force. Useful for any future assassins who dared try coming up against her Laisha thought viciously. The last of Tarnesh's scrolls gave her Magic Missile, a ubiquitous low level evocation spell that Gorion and Tethtoril had ever laboured to keep out of her hands!

Finally, satisfied with her long night's work, fingers stained with ink, she laid her head down on the desk and promptly fell into a dreamless slumber.


End file.
